Therapy and Thoughts

I have thought, more than once, to go back and read the early entires I posted here. Yet I have yet to do so. I think, now and then to look at how far I have come since then, then I realize I’m not ready. Not yet.

This was something which came up during therapy, part of a larger discussion at how far I have come since I started with Jodi. I mentioned I wasn’t ready yet to act on her suggestion I write an autobiography. It just isn’t time yet. As with so much of my writing, there has to be a need, a desire, a spark which drives me.

It’s one of the reasons I decided to unofficially join the “A Poem A Day” challenge for April. It is also why I tried my hand at the “50 Word Story” challenge. I want to be able to write more. I want to write better. 

Still, there are many things I have to work through before I will be ready to attempt to write so much about myself… Yes, I know, this whole blog has been an exercise about “Me”, yet it is somehow different… like a discussion during group therapy… More of speaking to interested people who have no other stake in knowing me than the time it takes to read a post, which is different than those who might have paid for a copy of a book which they expect to be worth their hard earned dollars.

There is also the “McFly Factor” in which I worry my stories will be no good, that people will say I am not good enough… Yet another layer of self confidence to be worked through…

We talked about this past week and how I am slowly coming to terms with the fact it really doesn’t seem to matter how I am presenting because I am regularly being correctly gendered, even when I’m sure there is no way I could be seen as female… like what happened at my work physical; something I am still amazed and amused by.

Yet there are times when I am nervous about being outed, especially when the kids are with me. It’s mostly in smaller store and fast food restaurants. Bigger stores or places with crowds don’t bother me nearly as much; I guess it’s a matter of being lost in a crowd… I mention this only because I found myself in both situations today and the smaller restaurant was definitely more stressful.

Every day it seems I am little more comfortable with myself and less fearful of being confronted, still, there are some situations I feel safer just avoiding, such a restrooms. I’ve been learning the stores which have gender neutral facilities. If I’m being honest with myself, the odds are it more of an issue to me than it ever would be to anyone else… after all, how many times have I spoken of this fear or that only to have them never materialize?

You know, there have been somethings I haven’t spoken about. They have been too personal and I haven’t felt comfortable discussing them, but I need to mention something here which some will understand…

To say the relationship between A an I is complicated is an understatement in the least and has been made more so by who and what I am… 

There is a level of mental and emotional intimacy I have found comforting which I fear might be lost as I transition further… that there is line out there beyond which our relationship will forever change, but I don’t know where it is and I won’t know I’ve crossed it until it’s too late to go back… If there was a chance to go back at all…

This is one of the big unknown which scares the daylights out of me, yet there is nothing I can really do to change the path I find myself on even knowing how much pain might be waiting in the future. Future pain… funny, as much as it hurts me now I should be terrified of what such a time would bring…

I know.. and Jodi agreed, I am gathering unneeded worries to myself, yet it is something which looms in the back of my mind… 

A First Time For Everything

Another post? Yes… 🙂


As it happens, A wanted me to post about our latest adventure… coloring her hair. How did it turn out? Well, I’m not going to beauticians school anytime soon to begin a new career!

Having said as much, it actually turned out pretty well, especially for my first time. I certainly learned a lot and know some things not to do, but more to the point, I have some confidence I could do it again and not botch it.

As a note, her hair is naturally dark brown and she wanted to change it to black…

Here are two photos:


Hair Color 1


Hair Color 2

A Work In Progress

Fair warning, I didn’t have therapy today so I’m going to use this post as a surrogate.


Alright, this past week has been trying, confusing, upsetting, and any other adjectives you can tack on, most of which is my own fault. As I so often do, I have been overthinking things and searching for the worst possible reasons behind everything. I have said before I think things into a total mush which I then shape into something I can use to punish myself… It really is something I have to come to terms with, I’m just not sure how to do so yet.

There is also another issue, which is trying to take responsibility for the feelings of those around me. Thinking somehow it is my fault for any negative feelings anyone around me might be feeling. It is even worse when the people in question are loved ones.

This is something I spoke to A about and she pointed out a lot of this stems from my mother constantly seeking to blame me for anything and everything and making me feel as if I can never be good enough for praise of any type. I know this sounds almost Freudian, but it is also true.

I guess having lived so much of my life under a cloud of disappointment, both silent and spoken is a legacy I am still dealing with.

Then there is another issue, which she told me is all part of our “work in progress,” which is our relationship… 

I mentioned before, she is not comfortable with certain things, especially referring to me as Kira because in doing so she cannot see me as her husband… Yet such is a title I have long felt didn’t describe me. Not in the sense she, or most people, think of it. I am and wish to remain, her partner. For us to continue having a meaningful relationship… I just don’t think it can be in a traditional sense of marriage… This then leaves me, in my mind at least, in a form of limbo. If I cannot claim the title of husband, nor of wife, then what am I? 

I simply don’t know yet and it makes things difficult to say the least.

For A, she thinks of it in the same way as my relationship with the kids. I have told them over and over, no matter what, I am still “Dad.” I guess for her, no matter what I will be her “husband.” Unless I were to physically transition as well… 

This past week I slammed on the breaks, such as it were… again. I made no effort to present as other than male. It wasn’t a matter of punishing myself, but rather, of thinking if as someone pointed out, someone was going to get hurt; I would rather it be me… After all, I’m use to living in such a manner; I’ve done so for more years than I want to remember. I honestly didn’t think of in the terms of martyrdom, just as being something which I was use to. Not surprisingly, A didn’t see it the same way. As she said, trying to be something I’m not turns me into someone she doesn’t like very much and if it happened again she was going to beat some sense into me because she wasn’t going to put up with it.

So, after our talk there was no question but I am going to continue forward. The path ahead my not be more than a fuzzy outline lost in the fog of uncertainty, yet it the path I need to take. As for how we, A and I, deal with our relationship… well, one day at a time.

It is after all, a work in progress

A New Favorite

I imagine plenty of other people already know about Chi Latte, but I just tried some this week and I love it.

Chai Latte


From Starbucks website:

The warm, aromatic flavors of chai tea have their roots in the ancient Ayurvedic tradition of India, where roadside tea merchants can be found preparing black tea with traditional healing spices like cardamom, cinnamon and black pepper. Featuring ingredients gathered from around the globe, our version of this beloved beverage is wonderfully sweet and spicy – and every bit as soothing.

Little Miss Bellweather (A Short, Short Story)

There are those who will tell you she likes to dance in the rain on warm Summer afternoons. Who will speak with kind smiles of watching her twirl and prance through the puddles as raindrops run through her golden locks, plastering them to her head. They will speak, with a tinge of disapproval, of her in her Sunday best, her legs speckled with mud and dirty water as her mother watched from the porch, laughing and clapping in time to music only they could hear.


If asked, they would tell you a different tale; for this one little girl never danced in the rain.


She danced with it.