Thoughts on Change and Choices - and Much, Much More

Yesterday, my friend Callie wrote about the need for change in her life and came to the conclusion that only the “atomic option,” i.e. exploding the status quo that those around her seek to impose, is likely to work for her. I had a pretty powerful reaction to that idea, and wrote her a long comment, which is pasted below, in response. I know that much of what I wrote is about me, not her, and, in fact, directly relates to our discussions about the delusion of the necessity for sacrifice to get what we need during my Course in Miracles study group yesterday morning. (If you want to see what prompted those discussions, read the section called “The Time of Rebirth” in Chapter 15 of the Text of A Course in Miracles, which appears on p. 324 of the second edition, or, in ACIM speak, you can find it at T:15:X (or Text, Ch. 15, Sec. X).) But I also had a lot of other things going on yesterday, all of which led to one of the most emotional days I’ve had in a long time.

I started the morning by preparing for a funeral I wanted to attend at 10, which meant wearing my black suit (the only thing I own that felt appropriate for a funeral) and putting on makeup beyond the eye shadow, mascara and lipstick that is my normal routine. Then, contrary to my normal practice of showing up a few minutes late, I made sure to arrive at my ACIM study group early, so I could talk to Charmaine, who leads the group and has become a true friend. I came early to tell her, first, that I would have to leave early to go to the funeral; second, that I’ll be out of town next week, which, combined with the fact that the group isn’t meeting for the two weeks after that, means that I won’t see my friends in the group for 3 weeks, a seeming eternity; and, last, that I’ve decided that I want to share my story about being trans with the group.

I’ve only told Charmaine and one other friend from the group about my history, and I’ve never talked about it in our group discussions, always being careful to avoid words or experiences that might “out” me (never talking about my experiences as a boy and talking about my “spouse” or “partner,” never my (ex-) wife, and rarely about having three daughters). As I wrote in “Trans and Proud,” at first that was about fear – fear of what they might think and how they might react. That group, almost all women, has become a very important part of my life, and the thought of no longer being welcome or feeling safe there pains me greatly. Having attended that group every week for almost a year, I know now that many, maybe even most, of the others who attend that group value my insights and are happy that I am part of it, so I know I will always be welcome there. Nonetheless, I continue to avoid inserting the fact that I am trans into our discussions, because it will be disruptive to the normal flow of the group. Finally, I’ve decided that I want to share my story with that group because I want these people, who I count among my closest friends, to know who I am; in other words, I want to be authentic and to no longer feel the need to censor myself. I also believe that being trans is an important part of my spiritual journey, including my study of A Course in Miracles, and that sharing my story may help others to see how they can implement the principles it teaches (primarily, that love is always the answer, no matter what the question) in their own lives. So, yesterday, I asked Charmaine for some time in one of our future meetings to share my story. She was very happy and very supportive of my decision and wanted to schedule it right away. I deferred, however, until after I come back from my trip to Trinidad with Mari.

After the others arrived and I told them about my need to leave early and my absence next week, we began to read. As I said, the topic was sacrifice and we did much more talking about how the pain of the concept has played itself out in each of our lives, and much less reading, than we normally do. The discussion was lively and moving and exactly what I needed. When I left, I felt centered and connected to my emotions.

The funeral was for a fellow attorney and friend. I didn’t know Jim well, but enough to know that he was a very loving man who truly cared about his clients. Jim worked in the public defender’s office, representing people charged with crimes who don’t have the resources to hire their own attorney. As the attorney who does most of the criminal appeals from Yavapai County for those same people, I look over the shoulder of every other criminal defense attorney in the area, hearing the complaints of their clients, looking for the mistakes my fellow attorneys made that harmed their clients and doing my best to correct them. I’ve been doing that work for 11 years now. Over that time, my admiration for Jim grew. Eventually, I learned that he carried the highest caseload of any attorney in the public defender’s office, and, thus, of any other attorney in the county. Yet, I can recall only a small handful of my cases that came from his clients and only one client who complained about Jim. This record is truly remarkable, given that there are some attorneys who generate numerous appeals and whose clients constantly complain about being mistreated, mostly, about not being heard by their attorneys. Jim’s clients didn’t complain about that because Jim cared enough to spend the time required to explain what was going on in their cases and because he had the admirable skill of being able to talk to them in language they understood and without projecting that attitude of superiority that many attorneys, much to my regret, project. Also, in all those years, I only found one mistake that Jim made. When I called Jim and explained my research that revealed that he had missed an opportunity to object that would have helped his client immensely (when I got it corrected, the client was released from prison and placed on probation, where he continues to do well), Jim’s only response was to ask how he could help to correct it. I view my relationship with other defense attorneys as being on the same side, both working to ensure that our mutual clients get the fairness and justice that our constitution guarantees them. Some attorneys don’t see it that way, but Jim always did.

The funeral was in the local Catholic Church, a modern and beautiful cathedral that I’ve only been to a few times before. I didn’t shed many tears during the Mass but felt grateful that I had the opportunity to take that time to honor a man that I admired through the use of ritual developed over thousands of years. After the service, I stood in the receiving line to tell Jim’s children and his wife how much I admired him and what a great lawyer I knew he was based on my unique perspective. When I left, my heart felt wide open and I felt more connected to my inner self than I have in a long time.

Fortunately, right after the service, I had an appointment with my friend and advisor, and former therapist, Byron, who I have been seeing on a regular basis for nearly 13 years. Byron has helped me through many hard times and, needless to say, we know each other very well. I told Byron about the funeral and about how I had been afraid to approach the people I saw there who haven’t seen me since my transition, some of whom may not even know about it. Then, I began to tell him about my decision to tell my Course in Miracles group about being trans. I explained that I was thinking that I would tell it as a story, beginning with “Once upon a time, there was a little boy,” and going on from there to describe the pain and confusion that that little boy, and the man he became, lived in for far, far too long. I began to cry (I feel the tears again as I write this) as I talked about living with severe depression since I was seven and being terrified by the nearly uncontrollable desire, which seemingly came from nowhere, to cut off my penis. Those thoughts scared me to death, and still do to this day, because, for many, many years it took the last ounce of my strength not to give in to that urge. So, I cried, sobbed really, like I haven’t in a long time, in recognition of my past. Eventually, the tears ended and we talked about other things – the struggle I’ve had with feeling motivated to do my work; the feeling I have that something – my work, where I live, something – needs to change; and the thoughts and emotions that are coming up for me as I contemplate traveling to Trinidad with Mari to support and love her through her SRS, and after.

All the emotion I felt yesterday and am still feeling today is exactly what I needed to break through the logjam I’ve felt with my work, and I was able to begin to work on some things that I’ve avoided literally for months. And I’m confident that will continue through the weekend, as I do my best to arrange my work life to avoid any crises while I’m gone to Colorado. For that, and for the connection to self that I feel this morning, I’m truly grateful.

All of that is merely a prologue to explain the emotional place I’m in today that led to this response to Callie’s post:

Change does require, well, change, but I never thought of it as requiring explosions. Sure, that’s one way to do it, but there are other ways, as well.

There are two kinds of change, of course. There are the changes in other people, institutions or society in general, which affect us. Then, there are the changes we ourselves go through. With respect to the first group, we can only control how we react; we cannot stop or control the change, no matter how much pain and energy we are willing to invest in efforts to do just that. With respect to the second group, however, we can choose how to initiate and sustain that change. Yes, we can be the “Dick” (sorry, I couldn’t resist) who shows up at Thanksgiving dinner in a dress for the first time (at least, *I* waited until the day after Thanksgiving and merely read a letter to my family and left the dress for much later). But we can also ease that explosiveness by preparing those around us for what is to come. Eventually, of course, we have to grab that bull by the horns and change to embody the persons we know ourselves to be, but we can do so with dignity and fair warning. If we do that, and other people still experience the change as explosive, which some, perhaps many, will, that is their reaction that only they are responsible for and only they can control.

I was saddened, too, to see you refer to your changes as moving from “caretaker to sapper.” Life isn’t so black and white. Yes, you are a caretaker and that is one of your most honored and valued roles, but I also sense that you ignore yourself when it comes to caretaking. From decades of painful experience, I finally learned that, if I spend all my energy caring for others and ignoring myself, I start to build up expectations that those others should appreciate and reward me with love and acceptance, which only leads to resentment when the others don’t understand, or simply refuse to play, their roles the same way I’ve scripted them. When those resentments do finally emerge, which they *always* do, they truly can be explosive and, in my case, the resulting “explosion” was often very ugly for everyone involved.

It may sound trite, but it is nonetheless true that we cannot care for others if we don’t care for ourselves first. You need to care for yourself in order to be truly caring to your parents. That will require you to change, which means your parents will have whatever reaction they choose to have, but that doesn’t make you the “sapper” or require that you abandon your role of caretaker. The world isn’t so black and white. Whenever I see the world as forcing me to choose between two seeming opposites, one of which feels selfish, while the other seems to require that I give myself away and ignore my own needs, my own identity, I know without doubt that there *is* a third way, a way between, that doesn’t require me to ignore either my own needs or the needs of others. It is always my ego that tells me that I have to choose one or the other, that it’s impossible to be simultaneously loving to myself, as well as others, because it is a favorite technique of, at least, my ego to trap me perpetually in either guilt or resentment, never seeing that love is possible.

I know that much of what I have just written is my own projection from my own experience and may not relate to your experience at all, but I hope that somehow what I have said will help you to find your own way to be the change that you are with love, not explosives.

Blessings,
Abby

Quote of the Day - June 28, 2008

Trans people, as well as lesbians, gays and bisexuals, are often criticized for comparing our struggle for equal rights to the Civil Rights Struggle of the ’50’s and ’60’s. I myself did so on this years’s Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, pointing out Dr. King’s own condemnation of incrementalism as a viable strategy for securing equal rights. I recognize there are many differences between that struggle and our own, but, if nothing else, it provides us with inspiration and the knowledge that, in the end, justice can and does win out. Thus, I was pleased this morning to read that Michelle Obama invoked the Civil Rights Struggle during a speech yesterday before the Gay and Lesbian Leadership Council of the Democratic National Committee, just days before the anniversary of the 1969 Stonewall riots between trans people, gays and lesbians and the New York police. Here’s what she had to say:

These anniversaries [of the Stonewall riot and the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in Lawrence v. Texas] remind us that no matter who we are, or where we come from, or what we look like, we are only here because of the brave efforts of those who came before us. We are all only here because of those who marched and bled and died, from Selma to Stonewall, in the pursuit of a more perfect union.

* * *

[T]he world as it should be rejects discrimination of all kinds.

Indeed, we build on the advances gained by all those who have gone before us, from Martin Luther King to Mahatma Gandhi to Sylvia Rivera. I give my thanks and do my best to honor them and the far too many trans women and men who have been murdered because of who they are by striving every day to advance the cause of justice for all.

UPDATED 6/29/08 to change the link to Michelle Obama’s speech to a report on Bilerico that includes the entire text, added the sentence at the beginning of the first paragraph of the quotation and corrected the last sentence of the quotation.

Grieving and Transition

Earlier today, my friend Nikki posted a recent letter from her mother on the TranscenderGender group blog and asked for advice on how to respond. A little background is necessary.

In April, Nikki told her family that she plans to transition to living full time as Nikki. Although they have been supportive, her mother wrote Nikki about her efforts to find a way to understand the changes brought on by Nikki’s decision and how to explain them to family members who have not yet heard the news. She told Nikki that the best way she could find to do that “is to consider that there is no more [Nikki's male name] and he is deceased!!!!!!!!,” and to tell family members “that [Nikki's male name] is deceased and that Nikki is now our daughter.” She acknowledged how “unreal” it felt to write that her child is dead and asked Nikki what she thought of this approach. Nikki, in turn, asked the rest of us for our thoughts before she responds. This is my response:

Nikki,

It is true that the process of transition is a process of death and rebirth — death of the old and birth of the new that comes to replace it, a process that is part of all changes, no matter how small or large. It is a process that we ourselves go through as we adjust to the changes that transition brings. Our families go through the same process as they learn about, acknowledge and, we hope, accept our changes.

For all of us, this is a process of grieving, the same process of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance that Elizabeth Kubler-Ross described in her book “On Death and Dying.” We go through this process whether the change is one that we invite, like the decision to transition, or resist, as our families may do when they learn of our decision. However, while it feels like a death has occurred, that is only a feeling, not reality. You are not dead. In fact, for many of us, we only truly begin to live when we transition to living as our true selves.

By telling herself and others, that you are literally, not just figuratively, dead, your mother is denying part of who you are – her child – and the truth of your life path from son to daughter. Although seeing you as dead may make it easier for her in the short run to cope with the pain she is feeling as she moves the grieving process, in the long run, it will not serve her or you. Final acceptance of you as Nikki requires acknowledging where you came from, as well as who you are today and where you are going. Without that, your mother will remain stuck in the denial stage of the grieving process, which will only prolong her pain. In all likelihood, it will also make your relationship with your family more difficult by cutting you off from your past as a member of that family since your birth, not just since 2008, and all the experiences that you shared with them.

Therefore, you may wish to consider telling your mother something like this:

“It’s true that the old me is dead, but I am not. Today, I am more alive than I have ever been. I too have had to grieve the death of my old self to make room for my true self. That process is the same as the process we go through when someone leaves this life. However, while the process is the same, the event that we are grieving is not.

“I am not dead and for you to tell yourself, not that it is as if I died, but that I am really and truly dead, hurts because it denies the truth of my past and all that we have shared together as mother and child. Yes, grieve the loss of your son but celebrate the birth of your daughter who was once your son, not just a being who has sprung full grown from the earth without a past and without connection to you or others.

“Tell yourself and the rest of our family that it feels like John, Jr. has died, but do not tell them that I am dead, please.”

For me the pain of disconnection – from my past, my family, the world – is the greatest pain I know. I hope your mother can see that she can help you avoid some of that pain by acknowledging, not denying, the truth of your connection with each other since your life began.

Blessings,
Abby

I know that much of what I said to Nikki is about me, my own past and my own experience with the death/rebirth process. Over the last 13 years that I’ve lived in Arizona, I have worked hard to find a way to be happy. One of the most important things I learned is that every change requires grieving for the old before I can fully surrender to the new. I have learned to honor and value that process as an essential part of my growth and to accept that, until I honor, rather than deny, whatever it is that I am letting go, I cannot move on. As many have said, “What we resist persists.” In other words, until I accept those things I want to change as my reality, whether I like it or not, those things will continue to dog me. Once I do, I find the freedom to move on, even as I grieve for what I have given up. Of course, this process was no more evident than in my own transition. No matter how eager I was to live as Abby, I had to acknowledge all that living as my male self brought to me, both the good and the bad. There are many experiences in my past that I would not have chosen, if I had recognized that I had a choice to do things differently. Today, however I am grateful for all of those things because they brought me to where and to who I am today. For that, I will be eternally grateful.

Quote of the Day – June 15, 2008

“Joy is the most infallible indication of the awareness of the presence of God(dess).”

– Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

Anyone and Everyone

I am sitting here in tears having just finished watching one of the most moving documentaries I have ever seen. It’s called Anyone and Everyone. It’s the story of a variety of families – Jewish, Catholic and Mormon; white, black, Hispanic and Asian – and how the parents came to understand and support their lesbian and gay daughters and sons, despite the teachings of their churches, despite all they had been told about homosexuality being a choice, despite their own bigotry and prejudice. I have to admit that I’m sucker for love stories and this is the best type of love story – one where love triumphs over all obstacles, the greatest of which are the barriers we create in our own hearts that keep us separate from each other and separate from the truth that we all are divine beings created out of love and created to share that love with others. I suppose that’s what I find hardest about those who seek to attack and shame lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people into denying themselves and returning to the closet. I simply don’t understand how people can hate when it is so very painful for me to experience being judged and rejected by others and for me to do the same to others, knowing the awful pain that it causes.

I don’t know how many people will understand any of this or really care, but it’s what I believe and why I do the things I do to spread love in this world and help other people to find peace with who they are and whatever circumstances life brings them. Tonight, I feel sad and lonely, and so I reach out to you because I need your love and want to do all I can to make sure that none of us has to go through these times – the good and the bad – alone.

Blessings,
Abby

P.S. You can watch the trailer and find out about show times in your area, how to purchase copies and the story behind the film by clicking on either of the links above.

Trans and Proud

Beginning in the fall of 2006, as I began to plan for my transition and think about what the future as Abby would be like, I always felt fear when I thought of those moments in public when people would realize that I am transgender or transsexual (I used both terms depending on the situation). I felt that same fear when I went out in public as Abby, watching carefully for disapproving glances and listening for rude remarks everywhere I went. As time passed and I didn’t see those glances or hear those remarks, I began to believe that I could live in this world as Abby without “being detected,” in other words, I thought I could “pass” without notice. As that belief grew, I became more and more confident in myself and more and more comfortable with my decision to transition. When I finally transitioned, my fear of being “clocked” as transgender was as great as ever, but, based on my experience, I believed that the risks of that actually happening were tiny, if not nonexistent. Without that belief and the concomitant belief that I could escape the shaming, harassment and even violence that is often the experience of my trans sisters and brothers, I doubt I would have transitioned.

A very curious thing has happened since then, however. Beginning only two or three months after my transition (on May 14, 2007), I began to realize that I am proud of who I am and of the many challenges and the tremendous pain that I overcame to learn the truth about myself and have the courage to live that truth as I do today. Today, I don’t bring up the fact that I am trans with most people. However, when it’s relevant or the moment can be used to teach about trans people, especially that we’re not freaks or perverts but people not so different than most, simply striving to live in peace and with a modicum of happiness, I am willing, and I do, tell people about my past. Yes, I still feel a tinge of fear each time I tell someone for the first time but I have never yet allowed that fear to stop me from revealing the truth of who I am, and I hope I never do. Considering the fear with which I began this journey, I am constantly amazed at the comfort that I feel with the knowledge that I am trans and my willingness to share that information with others whenever and wherever it might help to create greater understanding and acceptance of trans people.

For example, a few weeks ago, I had lunch with a woman friend from my Course in Miracles study group. I have never discussed being trans in that group (they’re nearly all women) because it has never seemed necessary or appropriate. However, based on a few things this friend had said to me in private, I was confident she would be comfortable with that information. How did I know? Well, when I first told her that I was applying for a job in Washington, D.C. with the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, after congratulating and encouraging me, she asked if I had seen an article that had just run in the NY Times the previous week about trans men attending women-only colleges. Given that she, not I, brought up the topic of trans people, and given her other comments about that article, not only did I conclude that she would probably be open to the information that I am trans, I also assumed that she had already figured it out and was trying to communicate her knowledge to me in some kind of “code.” So, a few weeks later, we decided to go to lunch. I went with the intention of telling her about myself and even believing that things transgender were likely to be a major part of our conversation. As it turned out, however, although we talked about many things, including my job application, an appropriate opening to bring up that topic didn’t appear until we had talked for more than an hour. For reasons that I no longer recall, I began telling her that, back in the 1970’s, after graduating from college, I had worked on a “hotshot” crew fighting forest fires and even, for one summer, as a smokejumper (those are those crazy guys – back then they were all guys – who jump out of perfectly good airplanes to fight forest fires). She responded that I must have been one of the first women to do that. Recognizing this opportunity for what it was, I told her, “Well, actually, I wasn’t a woman at the time.” After looks of surprise and then understanding crossed her face, I added that I am a male-to-female transsexual. The rest of our conversation was about being trans, what it means and what my experience has been like. (As it turned out, contrary to what I thought, she hadn’t figured out that I am trans, although she had had some suspicions.) At the end of our conversation, she simply congratulated me for finding a way to peace in my life and praised me for my courage in following my truth, which, at least among women, is the typical response of those who learn about my past. (During our conversation, I told her about the challenge that transgender children face and about Trans Youth Family Allies and my friend Kim Pearson, TYFA’s Executive Director, one of the best friends that transgender children in the U.S. have. Not too long after, my friend talked to Kim and is now volunteering for them. Now, that’s the kind of happy ending I like!)

All of this is simply a lead-in to quote a blog post by my friend Callie about being trans and proud. Yesterday, she wrote about her struggle to find a way to attend this weekend’s Trans Pride March in Northampton, Massachusetts and be “present at the event, present in a visible and potent way,” given her obligations to care for her parents with whom she lives as their son. As she wrote, she discovered the message that she would have carried there if she had gone: “that pride is pride, lifting us when we actually embody our best possibilities, which, I hope, is the goal of the transgender quest.” Today, she wrote the words she would have spoken at the March if she had gone and been asked to speak about the experience of being trans, as she has many times before. Here is part of what she wrote:

We are not gathered to say that we are proud to be trans. Our being trans is an accident of birth, just another way some people are born.

No, we are gathered here to say that we are trans and we are proud. And in a society that works hard to shame non-normative people into silence, that is a remarkable thing to say. We have taken the shaming and the ostracism, taken the threats and the fear, taken the abuse and the separation, taken the pounding that tried to keep us down, taken the brickbats and the bombs, and we have emerged. We have emerged alive, we have emerged thriving, we have emerged proud.

And who are we not to be proud? Are we not children of the creator as much as any other human on earth? Do we not have the possibility of wonder written into our souls? Do we not have the spark of life burning in us?

Many people still tell us that we should be ashamed, ashamed of who we are, ashamed of our choices, ashamed of our very nature. They tell us that by being visible we can corrupt their children, make the world safer for sexual predators, offend those who value fear and obedience to the norms over expression. They tell us that we are indulgent and challenging, and we should be very ashamed of who we are.

But we gather here together to say this, to share this: It is possible to be trans and proud. And, in fact, any trans person who has created a whole, integrated and healthy expression in the face of such shaming, has a great deal to be proud of, transcending the internalized self-loathing to come out into the sunlight of such a bright June day!

* * *

We are proud of the transpeople who are out today, showing themselves as valuable members of society, just doing the everyday work. They challenge the lessons that all transpeople are sick and broken, and show that we can be as potent as any human when we come from our own gifts.

* * *

We are proud of the history people like us wrote, and proud of the future that we can imagine, where kids can actually be who they are, bringing out the best of them without being shackled by compulsory gender that puts genital configuration over the power of their open heart.

We are here today saying that yes, yes, yes, it is possible to be trans and to be proud.

And that is a message that there is no going back from. It is a message that all need to hear.

And it is a message we need to carry in our heart every day.

It is possible to be trans and to be proud.

All I can say to that is “hear, hear!” And thank you, Callie, for these words and for reminding me today that I am proud of who I am.

Find a Better Job

Here’s a thought for all of you who, like me, spend entirely too much time worrying about the future, what other people think or whatever your flavor of the day is:

Now

That

All your worry

Has proved such an

Unlucrative

Business,

Why

Not

Find a better

Job.

• The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, The Great Sufi Master, Translations by Daniel Landinsky

I Want to go to Vaginaland!

For something a little bit lighter check out this video:

My thanks to Thought in My Pants , where I found this video by following a random link.

Another Humorous Moment in the Life of a Transsexual

I don’t know about you but I always smile to myself when people are surprised to learn that I am a transsexual. One of those moments happened this morning.

To keep my doctor (actually, she’s a nurse practitioner, but who’s quibbling?) happy, so she’ll continue to prescribe hormones for me, I needed to go to the local medical lab to have blood drawn to check my estrogen level. (I know, I know, there is no research to support the use of hormone levels to determine the optimum hormone regimen for a MTF transsexual (like me), but my insurance covers the cost of the tests and it keeps Carol, my NP, happy, so what the heck, I do them.) Also, when I saw her last month, she also did a complete physical exam. As part of that process, she also wanted to check my PSA (prostate specific antigen, a marker for prostate problems and, thus, a male only test). So, the order she wrote for my blood tests listed only 2 items: estradiol and PSA.

I knew before I went into the lab, which is mostly staffed by women, that there might be some questions about why I would need my PSA checked, especially when the only other test I needed was to check my estrogen levels, which, of course, is normally only done for females. I am fortunate that, in most situations, I am perceived as a woman, and not trans, so there was little chance that the people at the lab would figure out on their own how someone could possibly need both tests.

So, I dressed in my normal feminine way, grabbed my purse and headed to the lab. When my name was called, I handed the woman behind the desk my lab ID card and the test order. She looked at the order and kind of muttered, “Is this right?”

I said, “Yes, it is.”

She looked very confused and said something about having never seen “this” before, obviously referring to the odd combination of tests. She then picked up the phone, said, “I need to check this,” and began to dial.

At that point, I decided to relieve us both of any more confusion and said to her, “I’m a transsexual.”

Her only response was to say, “Oh,” and hang up the phone.

Hoping to be helpful, I then added, “So, I still have a prostate that needs to be checked.” I also agreed with her that the order asked for a pretty unusual set of tests. To her credit, she didn’t seem embarassed or disturbed by my revelation. Instead, she simply directed me back to the first open booth, and, since this is a small lab, came back and drew my blood with no further comment, other than to admire my bracelet.

It’s always interesting to see how people react when their assumptions about who I am are shattered by the news that I’m trans. Thankfully, in my experience, most people are simply surprised, and not disturbed, by that news, so it simply becomes one of those humorous moments in life when we get to see that things aren’t always what they seem to be. And, since I am trans, it also becomes a brief education in the fact that transsexuals exist and aren’t really any different from anyone else.

I’m here, now what?!

OK, I signed up here so that I could be part of Lori’s TranscendGender blog, but I’m brand new and only just beginning to figure how to use this. I should have more to say later. Right now, I’ve got to get going, since I’m heading to Phoenix to see my doctor (actually, nurse practitioner) this afternoon.

Bye for now!