An Ending and A Beginning

As I sit here writing this, it is still New Years day. 

A new year, a new beginning…

The chance to leave the old behind in the ashes and to light a fire for the future which races toward us with each passing second.

Yet, as so often happens, we find ourselves still tangled in the snares and streamers of a past we cannot undo, which follows behind us, a nebulas trail of vapor and regret.

Hw often have we wished we could step through the waterfalls of time and be purged of what has gone before?

To drown in possibility.

 

This past week has not gone well, though I have tried to hide it behind closed lips and dry eyes…

I had resolved to not continue writing personal posts… It seemed such a pointless endeavor. Yet here I am again, doing what I thought to not do… 

I’m sorry this is so confusing, I am writing through the screen of my emotions and trying not to break down in front of the boys…

Maybe… maybe this is why I am writing this at all… not for me, for them. Maybe the day will come when they will read everything I have written over the past several years and through all of these words, find some small understanding of who I was… 

Maybe not, but I can hope can’t I?

Things began to come apart last weekend. Saturday I went out partially dressed, no wig, no makeup. I did it because I knew going out with me fully as Kira made A uncomfortable. I wrote the post about using my male name because of that day and my realization I can’t continue to walk in two worlds. A point came where I needed to use the restroom and instead of embarrassing myself, I choose to return to our vehicle and leave my “boobs” in the center console. I was upset with myself for feeling the way I did, for not being willing to stand proud as myself instead of slinking off and taking the easy path and it ruined the day for me… cutting off my nose to spite my face…

Sunday A and I were getting ready to take the boys out to use the gift cards they received for Christmas… I walked out of the bedroom wearing my hair…

A was not approving at all. Everything else was fine with her, but not this…

She even said having my enhancers in was fine… (I know they would be hidden by my coat…), Her main concern was this would be the first time I had went out with the kids and she was worried about how they would react, what would happen if there was a confrontation. (The only other times I have been out in public with them has been Halloween… nothing like this). 

Her reasons were sound, I couldn’t argue with her because I also think she was right. 

I took off the wig, took off my enhancers, took off my boots… I returned to what was acceptable… what was approved…

And I haven’t gone back since.

She told me yesterday it was a matter of going too fast, that I needed to slow down… 

I simply cannot keep doing this, it’s tearing me apart a piece at a time. Either I am myself or I am not. I am not some toy which can be put together from bits and pieces, mixed and matched at a whim. If I cannot be who I really am I would rather be nothing at all.

One hurts as much as the other.

I sit here and feel as if it has been a pointless waste of time, money, hopes and dreams…

Two years, for what? 

I was a fool to think it would be any different.

She told me she was asking me to slow down, not to stop but I cannot go any slower than what I have done to this point… I have told her I cannot keep up this charade, it was getting too painful, yet this is what she asks me to do… and I can’t… not without going in reverse.

Something inside has broken and I don’t know if it can be mended… I don’t know if I want it mended…

More than once I have wished I would simply go insane, loose touch with reality to the point I am nothing but an empty shell sitting in a chair looking out a window without seeing anything. A voiceless, thoughtless… thing.

I would rather never feel again than continue on as I am.

I Used My Male Name Today

I used my male name today.

The when and where are not important. How doing so made me think and feel is. One simple word, nothing more. Something I have done countless times over so many years. This time. This time was different. It felt awkward and strange. It felt alien and wrong. It wasn’t who I am. I’m not sure it ever was. It was almost an epiphany, yet not. Almost deja vu, yet not.

Somewhere in my heart I knew this day would come. 

It seems I still held onto the thought I could close Pandora’s Box. Thought I could, when push came to shove, return at least outwardly to what I had been before. The thought I could do so with little or no consequence. Yet I knew. I knew a time would come when it just wasn’t possible any longer.

I used my male name today. When, where, even why are pointless details. 

As soon as the word was out of my mouth I knew.

I knew I could no longer use it and think nothing of it. 

It wasn’t me. It felt as if I were lying to the person in front of me. 

It felt wrong.

As the day passed, traveling here and there, I knew something more. I knew I couldn’t face the world half way. I couldn’t hope to dance the razors edge without getting cut.

I must face things head on, as myself. Not hiding even behind a baseball cap. 

I just can’t do it, no matter if it seems the right thing to do at the time. Not if it seems to be the easier path.

It will never be right again.

The easiest path is rarely the correct way, leading to greater pain and suffering than taking on a challenge head on from the start.

Some Thoughts On The Nature Of The World

I’m not sure where I’m going with this so if it gets too confusing, I apologize.

In my last post I said I wasn’t complaining, I wasn’t and I’m not. I guess I’m just confused as to how people respond to me. I don’t mind being seen as androgynous, and I love being properly gendered regardless of how I happen to look. The main thing is I don’t see much of a difference between how I am now compared to before, other than maybe more fully embracing who I am on the inside and this is being reflected in outer ways which people are noticing.

I have spent the past two years reading pretty much anything I can find regarding gender, the differences between masculine and feminine, between how society views the male/female binary. At times I have felt liberated by this knowledge and others I have felt smothered.

It seems so pointless, all of the “you should be this way” or “you should be this way.” What are such things based on? Our perceived understanding of what it means to be male or female?

Just where does such “understanding” come from? Our parents, grandparents, siblings, family? What about advertising? Television? Movies? Books? Magazines? Radio? the Internet? Is it just part of the natural order?

I think it’s a combination of all these things. Bits and pieces pasted together as we grow from children into adults. For good or ill we tend to follow what we see and hear. All of the little cues and lessons, many we don’t even notice until it’s habit.

This usually isn’t an issue as the majority of people tend to fit into their respective boxes, blue or pink. (Though not too long ago even those were reversed to what we know today). It is when a person doesn’t find such things comfortable or acceptable, when we push the boundaries or break them all together. Then we see these constructs for what they are. Yet we will try, sometimes dying in the attempt, to be the same as everyone else. Too often not having the words to explain how we feel or why. Turning ourselves inside out to be something we are not and never were. To fit in. To be “normal” even though no one can tell us just what “normal” is.

If one insists on claiming the majority as the measure of what is normal, I wonder if they realize a few things?

It is normal to be other than Caucasian.

It is normal to live someplace other than North America or Europe.

It is normal to speak another language than English, Yes, even the bastardized version we speak in the U.S. of A.

It is normal to follow another faith besides Christianity.

Unfortunately, as with so many other things, the majority of people in the U.S. seem to believe they are the center of the universe and everything revolves around them. So what is “normal” to the average caucasian, heterosexual, Christian, American must be “normal” for everyone else as well and if it’s not? Well then they are clearly wrong, deprived, mistaken, mislead, misguided, and not capable of understanding the true nature of the world.

They feel comfortable sitting back and passing judgment on any and all who are not just like themselves. Who think differently, feel differently, love differently. Those who find themselves outside their neat little boxes in their neat little, orderly world.

These are the people who will swear to their god above they are not racist because they have a “black” friend. They are not homophobic because they have a “gay” friend. They aren’t bigots even when their every word and action is dripping with hatred and scorn, after all, everyone has a right to live their lives right? Only as long as it meets their expectations and approval.

When faced with something they do not understand and have not experienced for themselves, then it must be wrong. A delusion. A mental illness. A sickness. A conspiracy. A trick or game. Never mind it might be something they could learn about. Come to understand with some effort. Nothing worth having is ever easy and this includes opening your mind to possibilities you might never have considered.

It’s much easier to be dismissive.

To be hateful.

To be hurtful.

To ridicule.

To scorn.

To belittle.

So much easier than making the effort to be an understanding, thoughtful, considerate, human being.

To actually practicing what you preach… “To do unto others as you would have done to you.”

But I guess such things are just too much to ask, aren’t they?

A Last Christmas Message

I was going to write something about how wonderful this Christmas has been, then I saw something which made me realize, as important as today has been to me and my journey, there are things which are more so. Not just to me but to so many Trans people out there around the world…

You see, even during this season of loving and giving, of being one with our fellow humans; there are people who willfully wallow in hatred. Who refuse to look beyond their prejudices, to see a world which is greater than their limited vision.

These people bristle at being called ‘bigot’ or hater or intolerant. Like the insane person who refuses to believe they are insane. Yet if one were to change a few words, to take the context of their rhetoric from the issue of gender and apply it to sexual orientation or God forbid, race, you would be tempted to see them standing at a pulpit or in a sheet before a burning cross. 

They claim they do not hate and yet their words are intended to incite hatred in others. To continue a endless cycle of intolerance and exclusion. They have implied they would prefer Transgender people didn’t exist. Some have even spoken of locking us away… To have us disappear from society all together.

They often claim to be part of the LGB community, yet they use the same arguments, slurs, and slanders which were once leveled against homosexuals as if they are appropriate for use against Transgender people.. Strange when one looks back now at how such things have been disproven, shown to be invalid or incorrect and how they use this information in their own defense and continued struggle for an equality they would gladly deny anyone else.

They refute the growing scientific evidence which is proving Transgenderism is real. Claiming it is pseudo-science, or faked or taken out of context. Again the same discredited arguments used by the opponents of gay rights.

They look wherever they can to find snippets of statements, arguments, and defenses to put together a collage of supposed wrongs and proof their “enemy” is evil at heart and out to do nefarious things when the truth is just the opposite.

They don’t care how much what they are doing hurts others. How it leads to violence and death. After all, the weapon is not in their hands, refusing to believe for a moment their hands are every much as bloody.

It is a sad truth, even if some of these people take the time to read this, they will react with hatred toward the things I have said because the truth is like Holy Water to them, it burns their conscience…

On this day when we should be looking to one another with love and support, seeking to give comfort where we can, this festering hatred has no place among us.

Set aside your weapons, weather they be wood, steel, or words. Take time to see those around you as human beings, deserving of the same respect and support as you ask for yourself.

Kira vs Greg

I almost made a terrible mistake tonight. As some of you may know, my oldest son is Autistic. He has been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome and he takes medication to help him deal with the issues this causes. Being a teen though, he sometimes forgets to take is medicine unless either his mother or I remind him. I point this out because as I have since found out, he didn’t take his medicine this morning which is what lead to what happened just over an hour ago.

It began with an argument between him and his six year old brother over the Wii U. It escalated into a shouting match which is when I stepped in. I started out trying to be clam and reasonable, but the problem is, off of the medicine, he isn’t very reasonable.  Things quickly spiraled out of control. The longer things went on, the more I found myself returning to my old ways of thinking and speaking… to returning to being “Him”… to being Greg. Yes, this is my actual male name, the one I have lived with and hated for as long as I can remember. When I think of who I was before, it is wrapped in that name. I am Kira now, as much as I can be, not Greg.

He wasn’t a very nice person in so many ways. He did, said, and thought things which make me sick when I think of them now. This all came crashing down on me when I realized just how close I was getting to being him again. Instead of walking away, I let my son… this child, push me to the edge. I finally told him, in front of his brothers what was about to happen… That if he continued to push me I was going to let “Him” back. I told them who I was now is not who I was but all it would take is the flip of a switch in my head and he would be back. I told them I was Kira now but I had been Greg before and all he needed was the smallest excuse to come back.

I asked them if they wanted me or him.

I cannot describe the fear in the eyes of the older two… They haven’t forgotten, may never forget that other person. Looking in their eyes, I realize things were so much worse than I ever imagined. The guilt I have felt over the things I remember doing and saying in those days doesn’t begin to compare to the horror I saw in their eyes… How could I have ever become such a creature that my own children were in such fear of me? Such fear my oldest was willing to walk out into 15 degree weather without a coat just so I wouldn’t flip that switch? To become that person again?

God, this hurts so much… I never wanted this for them, for A, for myself…

I know now, even if I lose everything, everything I fought of values or worth, I cannot… ever, let him loose on the world again.

I have felt this entire time, him just under the surface, waiting for me to slip, for me to loosen his bonds just the smallest bit and he would come roaring back… Sometimes I even thought such a thing would be for the best. 

How could I ever think the lives of my loved ones would be better with him than with me?

Yes, I was once him… once a person named Greg. I am not that person any more, can never be him again. To do so would mean my death. Not just of who I am now, but of this physical being I inhabit. He will destroy it all.

It is what he was made to do.

He is death.

I don’t know how I can stand to hear that name again. It is not who I am. I pray to God it never is again.

I am Kira.

I cannot be anything other than this one thing… encompassed by something so simple as a name…

Just Kira.

I cannot be both.

God help me, I cannot be both.

I cannot stand to see that look in my children’s eyes again.

One last thing…

My youngest never saw that part of who I was, thankfully…

Yet he asked me, “Were you a bad person?”

How can I answer such a question? How can I look at him and not feel the sorrow of what has happened?

I told him…

“Not any more.”

Please God, don’t let me have lied to him… He doesn’t deserve such a thing….

None of do.

Ned Vizzini dies at 32: Fans mourn ‘It’s Kind of a Funny Story’ writer

A sad story which is repeated all too often…

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The New York-based author of “It’s Kind of a Funny Story,” a semi-autobiographical story about a teen’s battle with severe depression, committed suicide on Thursday, the city’s medical examiner’s office confirmed to TODAY.com. His injuries were consistent with someone who had fallen to his death.

Read the rest on Today.com

Quite A Day

Well today has had its ups and downs… (but more ups!)

First of all we woke up to more than three inches of snow on the ground, actually I think we had closer to five at our house. Then had a fight and near meltdown with the oldest when he was told he was going to shovel the drive. I probably should have stuck to my guns, but o be honest, I wasn’t up to fighting about it, not today so I just did it myself. 

The A was called into work which left me with no choice but to walk to Costco to get dinner. No big deal except they haven’t bothered with the residential roads around our house which means the whole way was pretty much a sheet of ice… as I found out on the way to the store. One second I was up, the next I was on the ground. Fortunately my pride is a bit bruised along with some other parts of me but nothing seems to be broken. Still, I am going to be stiff and sore by morning.

Funny enough I feel it was worth it after my time in the store. I went out without my hair, (which considering my fall, I am glad for). No makeup. Just a sweatshirt, jeans, work boots, and a ball cap… and well, my coat of course… Now I was wearing silicone “boosters” so I have a little chest going, but you can’t tell in my winter jacket, at least I don’t think you can… anyway, I was correctly gendered several times, mis-gendered only once, and one time a woman stopped to talk to me about what I was getting for dinner, (meatloaf with mashed potatoes), she at first called me ‘sir’ until she looked at me and corrected herself with “Miss” and she apologized!

I think I spent the whole time smiling.

Now I don’t expect everyday to go as smooth, but it has been a real confidence builder to say the least. 

Crossing The Glass

I once watched a television show in which they were showing how optical illusions affected children, most noticeably those who were crawling. In one experiment they put the child on a table. Both ends were opaque with large red and white squares and were connected by a piece of clear glass. The table was on a checkered floor, also red and white but with smaller squares making it seem much further away than it was. Even though the child could feel the glass and could rest its weight on it, yet the child refused to cross the glass. Even when shown it was safe, still the child would not cross. The illusion of distance became an insurmountable barrier.

With time and patience, by being shown it is possible, eventually the child will learn to cross the glass, to trust its senses and know there is a way across even if it cannot see it.

I am no longer a baby, toddler, or child. Yet in many ways this is a lesson I have had to relearn. To once again trust my thoughts, emotions, and senses. To understand, even when I cannot see or understand how, there is a way across. 

I have reached a decision point, the edge of the known where I have been for so long. It isn’t comfortable or even desirable to stay but in order to move beyond this requires a leap of faith, an embracing of the unknown and trusting the glass will hold my weight. I don’t know what is waiting for me on the other side. I know what I hope is there. What I wish to find, but I will never know unless I take one more step forward.

I have seen others who have crossed the glass, who are crossing even as you read this. I have seen their stumbling steps, those moments of uncertainty and fear. I have also watched others overcome the fear and move onward. They are waiting for me even now. They have spoken words of encouragement, they have shown what is possible. 

 

I spoke with A when I got home from work. I told her of my fears. I told her how much it hurt me to know I have hurt her and knowing I will do so again before this is over.

I told her I didn’t want to see her hurt again…

I didn’t cry, though I wanted to. She asked me not to, if I broke down she would have too. Maybe there will come a time for those tears in the future.

We both agreed I cannot stop here. I cannot go back. To do either would be more than I could bear. There is only forward from here. As she told me, I have to do what I must and of course, to take baby steps. There is still o a long way to travel yet and no need to rush. I will get there when it is time for me to do so.

For the moment I am going to work on being myself on the weekends, as long as possible each day. I will work on the things I need to get right every day for when I go full time. You see, I know it is only a matter of when, not if. I think I have known this for a long time even if I couldn’t make myself accept the truth.

There were other things of which we spoke, yet the most important is this;

Either of us could have walked away before now and yet we are still here. We are still facing this together and I think it says a great deal about our relationship.

What Have I Done?

I’ve been debating if I should write this post or not…

Some things are painfully personal, some are just difficult to put into words. Whatever the case, I haven’t found a way to put my emotions into words… not really…

Still if you will bear with me, I need to work my way through this and writing it down seems to be the only way I can focus in on the issues.

 

 have reached a painful point. More so than I expected. The past two weekends have seen me going into the world not as him, but as me. Not day long excursions, but for many hours none the less. Time spent in environments where I have felt just safe enough I didn’t run back home to hide behind closed doors… I’m not sure how what I have written about this looks to anyone looking in from the outside, but all of this is happening  now because things finally reached a point where I could no longer say “no.” No longer hide who and what I am behind this facade any longer. It simply became too painful. There was too much stress in continuing to try and be someone I am not.

This place where I am now is not without its costs. I have paid a price by waiting as long as I have, never mind I thought I had every valid reason for doing so, and in some ways think I still do. It has cost me dearly in personal pain, doubt, and fear.

Yet I am not alone in having to pay for my actions, these decisions. A too is paying a price I cannot fully understand. I know this has caused her so much pain and sorrow… I know I have made her cry. Something which I had hoped to never do… It tears my apart to know what I have done… what I am still doing. 

I never wanted this to happen.

From where I am now I can see that in discovering who I am, I have probably destroyed our marriage… we promised on another we would work through anything, only cheating would rip our union apart.

Now here I am, the other woman who has driven a wedge between a man and his wife.

Lets be honest here; from where she stands, A must see me as something she never expected to have to fight, Another woman who has consumed her husband, who, like the Dark Side has reduced him to a shell which still looks the same but the person inside is a stranger.

I am the evil twin, who looks the same, sounds the same, has many of the same habits and mannerisms, but who is not who I pretended to be for so long.

Right now I am standing at the top of the mountain, having struggled for so long to reach this place. With a single step I will end one part of my journey and begin following a new path.

Yet I hesitate.

One step… so small a thing, yet so large. It is beyond imagining. To leave on life behind and take up another… to, with a single decision destroy nearly two decades of not just one life, but four others as well. Nothing will be, indeed can be, the same once I do this. I don’t know where I might be going, yet I can never go back to where I was.

I don’t know if I can do this. I really don’t. I can’t say I am strong enough. Determined enough. 

I am standing in a ruined castle, the roof gone, the walls shattered. All around me which was once safe and secure now lies in rubble and I don’t know if I can ever rebuild…

You see, I have been here before. 

All the walls I built, the fortress which protected and sheltered me, gone.

Gone.

I close my eyes and for as far as I can see is desolation. A blasted and seared landscape. The waters polluted, the soil salted.

I stand here and ask myself; 

What have I done?

The wind, so cold and lonely cannot answer.