Penis in the Women’s Room

Penis in the Women’s Room

Remember the 80’s sex comedy? This is where men learned what girls did in the locker room (or conversely where women learned what men fantasized about what girls did in the locker room). I always think back to the scene in “Stripes” where John Larroquette is using a spyglass to watch female recruits taking a shower and says
‘I wish I was a loofah’.
Such sexy fun times the girls were having where the men were not allowed to go! In these movies, men would go to great lengths, including cross dressing, to catch a glimpse of this sacred palace of sexy fun. And so you get an entire generation that has a very specific reference point for what locker room life is for women…what bathroom life is for women.

“Doubt and Denial” From: The Transition Channel – YouTube

Note: This is not an endorsement, I simply found this to be helpful.


From the description:

A lot of people who are asking, “Am I transgender?” are doing so from a place of doubt and denial.

Most of my first appointments with people involve talking about their doubts and denial. Deciphering what is valid and what is not valid is a challenge without the outside perspective of an expert for some people. Others it can be simple.

Why Can’t I…

Facing forward I am confronted by an unknowable future (and yes, I understand the future is never knowable before it happens and then it is the past) however, there has been a painful yet comforting familiarity to the past which has allowed me to face each day as little more than another expected sentence added to the book of my life. These are the waters I have tread for so long the I have fallen asleep to their rhythm.

Now that rhythm has been broken, those once placid waters have become storm tossed and shark filled and I seem as incapable of stepping into this new unknown any more than I could step into those waters.

I know this sounds melodramatic, especially if you haven’t experienced anything similar. It’s a problem I have run into when trying to explain what I am feeling to someone who isn’t lgbt, never mind trans. Even my therapist seems to have difficulty during our recent sessions, which has added to my own doubts and questions when it comes to where I need to be. Don’t get me wrong, I am not faulting her here, I’m amazed we have made it so far when my issues are so far beyond her own experience, not to mention all the added baggage I brought to the table. I seriously credit her efforts with keeping me sane and alive this long.

Still, I want to break down in tears of frustration when she asks why I cannot be content with where I am now. Can’t I be satisfied with being seen as more androgynous than male? With wearing certain clothing or having long hair. 

When she suggests maybe I need to accept putting things off just a little longer, until my children are older, until I find a workplace which is more accepting, until, until, until… As if deliberately dragging out my transition for all those reasons and more for over five years hasn’t come close to destroying me more than once. When every time I have made one step forward, my entire past comes crashing down on me like a tsunami and I find myself having taken a dozen steps backward. 


I don’t know who wrote this or who made into a wallpaper; what I do know is I have spent a long time trying to find words which echo the darkness in my heart and this is the closest any have come. It is as if someone cut open my chest and looked into my soul.



I find your lack of empathy disturbing…

I happened across this via Reddit. This is an opinion piece which includes a link to Dirt, which is a blog which tracks young trans boys.

It is bad enough to know there are those who out trans adults but there is simply no excuse for harassing trans children. If you read the original blog post and then the included twitter conversation, I think you will find it as chilling as I did.

Being straight, lesbian, gay, or trans are issues which should not be subject to bullying tactics. It is up to each individual to find the path in this life which is right for them regardless of your agreement or disdain. 

If you agree with a persons life choices, support them in any way possible.

If you don’t, then keep it to yourself.


Listen; there is music playing nearby, can you hear it? Is it upbeat, calling you to dance? Or is it low and slow, a haunting reminder of darker times?

I have often wished life came with a soundtrack, like a movie or television show, each song matched to the moment, reflecting emotional energy like a mirror. Of course, such a thing isn’t possible, is it? Unless like me you are sitting in front of your computer and you have a lifetime worth of music at your finger tips…

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to find such power is a two edged sword. The music can reflect your emotions or it can drive them… Seek the positive, receive the positive. Seek the negative… You understand, right?

On the other hand, a song can be as out of place as a penguin on the beach in Florida. 

Much of my music collection tends toward the darker side, in key and lyric. At least it does to me. I favor melancholy.

(At the moment ‘Metal Heart‘ by Cat Power is playing if your interested.)

Sorry, I’m stalling. There is so much I would love to sit down and talk about over a cup of coffee or tea… Yet there are times like these when I fear to share what I keep hidden inside.

So, if you are inclined to pass on lengthy posts, then feel free to move on to something else, I’ll understand, I promise.


Shall we go together to confession?

Well, I’m not Catholic, but I get the general idea.

Something I like about being online is how easy it is to hide. Having a bad day? Just share a random song from YouTube, having trouble writing? Find something to reblog or hunt down a story and share the link. No one can see you on the other side of the screen. No tears.

I’ve been doing this for months now.


From you, me…

My muse has returned. She never comes back without a reason or a price.

I don’t know when I began on this downward spiral; I suppose it doesn’t really matter. It’s like asking when the pilot gave up trying to keep the plane from crashing. 

(Never Really Had You by Karman Line)

Several weeks ago I had a therapy session by which time I was already on the way down… I told Jodi worrying about where I was going from here on this crazy journey didn’t matter any more. I was emotionally exhausted and physically spent. I still am, just more so. Of course she reminded me each time I have reached point like this things haven’t gone well and yes, I am more than aware of this fact. Things have taken a darker turn in the last week or so and as I mentioned in the beginning, my muse has taken notice. She is an evil mistress, feeding on my darkest thoughts and fears. The deeper I sink into depression the stronger her voice becomes. Along with that, there are physical symptoms as well and they began this week. 

How many times have I reached this point? Once, twice, three times and more…

Each of them I survived and so I downplayed just how serious they were. Total breakdowns which should have seen me hospitalized… I know I’m on borrowed  time, have been for so long… Managing to stay one step ahead of the Reaper, but he is going to catch me one day…

I’m not there. Yet. I do know this is where I am heading.

You see, I know who I am in my heart, but that person doesn’t match with my physical presence and never will. To hope for anything else is foolishness. I don’t live in a make believe world. There aren’t any secret experiments, magic potions, or pills which will bring body and spirit into alignment. 

(Girl In A Room by Antiqcool)

I don’t know what I am going to do or how I’m going to do it. I just survive one more day… I can’t ask for anything more.

My Thoughts This Father’s Day

I sit here and wonder; will this be my last “Father’s” day. The entire day has been bitter sweet in ways I never imagined. I spent time with my middle son watching “How To Train Your Dragon 2”; his mother suggested he take me to see it and we had a wonderful time. 

I also spent time out shopping with A, just things we needed such as groceries, but it was time we had together. It was nice with it being the two of us even if it was a short time..

The bitter part not surprisingly was spending the day in “Dad” mode. I felt it was important.

Still, all of the “Happy Father’s Day” greetings everywhere we went were harder on me then I thought they would be and by the time we had returned home I was worn out… I suppose I still am, really…

I wonder, is it wrong I am writing this trying not to cry? To have my heart feel this heavy? Every breath a struggle?

I’ve known all along it might get to this point… maybe having the reality stare me in the face makes it all the more immediate, more real. As I said at the beginning, this might be my last “Father’s Day” and anything which might qualify as a Father…

never mind a Dad…. 

Circle Of Fear

I have seen life described as a river or a line. Even describing it as a path or journey suggests it has a beginning and an end, yet this isn’t completely my experience.

In many ways life is a series of circles. My thoughts and steps coming around to where I started. Sometimes I find myself caught in one of these, going around and round again until something breaks the cycle and I move into a new circle. There are times when movement is quick and sure, moving from one moment to the next, while other times it seems I will never break free. Then there are the layers of circles which make up months, even years. Cycles of my life which, when I have thought them done and over, somehow are ahead of me again.

Over the past several years I have seen this happen time and again. Old thoughts and fears I thought behind me rear up to be faced again. There are times when I feel as if I have gone nowhere at all, even though the truth is, I have travel miles.


This is the secret I am finally understanding, though I am a bit thick headed and sometimes I think I have to be beaten over the head with something to finally get it… 

You see, even when I have travelled in a circle to arrive someplace I recognize; it isn’t really the same any more than I am the same person who passed this way before. Things have changed. I have changed. It is only my perception which deceives me into thinking otherwise.

An example is this; in the not so distant past I said my fear was in not being seen as my true self. I feared being mocked, ridiculed, or worse. The thought of being myself outside of my own house or at work was beyond my comprehension.

Now I have found these fears to be unfounded. It’s to the point where I realize I am having trouble being seen, heard, and accepted as anything other than female. At least by those with whom I don’t have a long history.

Sunday A and I went shopping. While at the store, I went to get some things from the frozen dinner section. On either side of me, at two different doors was an older couple. When I turned to go to my cart, an item slipped out of my hand and hit the floor. The man who was in front of me jokingly called out to his wife, “Did you throw that at me?” to which she answer “No”. “Well,” He said, “This lady sure didn’t do it!” His wife replied with something I missed, but you get the idea.

Why is this important? Because I was suppose to be out in “boy mode.” I have forgotten to charge my shaver the night before and so I hadn’t shaved. I sure wasn’t going to do anything to present as anything but male with my face feeling like sandpaper. So I was wearing just t T-shirt and jeans, with a baseball cap to hold my hair down. To me I was as scruffy as scruffy gets and I was still tagged as female.

Once we were out of earshot, I asked A, “What do I have to do to be seen as male; grow a full beard?” Maybe so…

I have mentioned this before, something has changed in a way I cannot put my finger on. I think it is a good change yet it is mystifying. For so many years I was seen as male even when I didn’t want to be, now all people see is a woman. 

Please note I am NOT complaining, nor do I really wish to be seen as a guy… it’s just a strange place to find myself upon reaching the end of one of those circles I spoke about. 

Before I was afraid of not being accepted as female, now I can’t get accepted as male and I suppose this does irritate me for some reason.

Maybe it’s a matter of seeing all those years of trying to be something, of trying to mimic others, of suppressing my true self, and in the end it is proving to have been a total waste of time and energy when I could have followed just one simple question to its logical conclusion decades ago… “Can I walk out the door and be accepted as a woman?”

I think I have the answer now…

Of course, if I had, then I never would have met A abad we wouldn’t have three boys I love with all my heart… Still, it’s annoying to think of what might have been had I not been caught in yet another circle…


I have lived my whole life in fear to one extent to another… fear of my parents, fear of the kids around me. Fear of failure… fear of success. Fear of relationships and fears of being alone.

Fear, fear, fear, and more fear… this has been a defining feature of my life for as long as I can remember and now I am standing here looking at it again. Not the same really; too much has changed for that, but fear none the less…

It is the fear of leaving the confines of the gilded cage. Of leaving the comfort of the known behind.

All of what I had built to try and pass as male has been left in ruins. Ripped down by my own hands and yet there is a part of me which wishes to hold on to the tatters even as they are torn away by the winds of change.

I can’t hide there anymore and so I feel exposed and naked before the world… and yes, it scares me to death. I can admit to such a thing now, there is no shame in feeling fear, only in allowing yourself to be controlled by it.