To My Readers and Followers

I wasn’t sure what, if anything, I was gong to write. For most of the day all I could conjure up were blank pages. It’s been this sort of up and down, feast or famine sort of time for me recently. There are moments when something will blaze through my thoughts and too many when the muse remains silent. It’s alright though, if I just let my mind go at its own pace, something usually happens; like now for instance. I just let my thoughts drift and before I know it, I have landed somewhere interesting.

Once upon a time, in the not so distant past, I said I was looking forward to the time when being myself wasn’t a extraordinary event. When going to the store, or meeting friends, didn’t require detailed plans or in deed, any more effort than anyone else puts into such things. A time when life was… well, normal.

I have, in many ways, reached such a point. When the issues of what I am are less of an issue then who I am. When being transgender is just one facet among many which describe who this person named “Kira” really is. It now just one label among many, which I can use to describe myself. It does not define me.

One of the consequences of this is, many of my posts are beaming more benign. 

It is true, some days I struggle to find something interesting to post, other times what I do decide to share is of little interest to the majority of those who chose to follow this blog. Food, movies, music, books, art… the list of my many interests is long indeed and I, being the chatter box I am, will gladly talk, (write), your ears off if you give me the chance about any one of them.

The thing is, I built this place as a way of working through all of the noise in my head. To separate myself from the thoughts and emotions which so often threatened to tear me apart. In so doing, I have found there are many people who have an interest in such things… the more mundane? Not so much. Don’t worry, I’m not upset or even worried really, there are those among you who take the time to stop by regardless of my ramblings and I appreciate each of you more than you can know. I also know there are many for whom such things hold no interest. I understand and I wanted to tell you, it’s okay. 

There are millions of blogs in the world and no one has time to read them all. All we can do is find those few which grab our hearts and hold our interests enough to keep us coming back. If I no longer provide such interest… I wish you well and will honestly say you will be missed. By the same token, I cannot and will not apologize for whatever direction my writing takes me. I am not a static thing. I am a human being and so I can and will change over time. I hope many of you will continue on the journey with me.

Understand, I will have good days and bad. Times when depression, anxiety, even anger will motivate me, just as there are and will continue to be times when being trans will be enough to set my teeth on edge. Yet I cannot see those things continuing to be the main focus of the blog or my life for that matter. One can only wallow in self pity for so long before it becomes stale to any half way sane person in the room. 

I’ve said before, I want to expand my experiences, I want to share my likes and dislikes with you. I want to give you the chance to get to know me… the real me, with all of my sharp edges, and beautiful facets.

I hope I can keep your interest and more importantly, your friendship as the future continues to become the present.




In Response

For some reason WordPress isn’t allowing me to access my Notifications through any of my browsers, (Chrome, Safari). I can still answer short comments via my phone but detail responses are difficult.

So, because I felt it was important to respond to one comment in particular, I am doing so here instead, I hope Robin doesn’t mind.

Let me copy her comment here and then I will respond below.

“I found that while I had to wait, going to a gender therapist to confirm what I knew in my heart was very affirming and helped a little. Daily application of moisturizer and shaving almost all of my body hair helped, too. Sometimes, since I had to work in “boy mode”, wearing something feminine underneath (bra, panties, maybe a chemise) helped… all stuff that no one noticed (despite my fear it would be glaringly obvious).

I also recommend you start shopping for wardrobe *now*. Shoes, coats, gloves, scarves, hats, skirts, blouses… all of it. You will need an obscene amount of clothing when you do go full time… and buying pretty things (even if you’re on a thrift store budget like I am) can help.

Also, remember you are on a process… it won’t happen overnight, but little by little you will get there. *hug*”



I am currently in therapy, though not with a GS. Unfortunately the nearest ones are in Chicago which is a three hour drive.Still my therapist, Jodi, has been a tremendous help for me in working through many issues and I am thankful to her for her support.

As for my “stealth” presentation… Mostly this is an issue when it comes to work. I am not conformable with the idea of coming out to my employer or coworkers and I have to admit I might never be. So I will continue to present as male there for the foreseeable future, though I admit this might have to change at some point.

Because of this, I do some similar things to yourself; using moisturizer, body shaving, using Secret instead of men’s Speed Stick, I have also let my hair and nails grow out, wear a pony tail and clear nail strengthener in place of polish. All of these things do help, though it often the use of my birth name and male pronouns which cause the most problems.

On the issue of dressing; for work I have found there is little difference between what I use to wear and what I do now. In fact, no one has really noticed the slight changes I have made which are more about being comfortable rather than obviously feminine. T-shirts, sweat shirts, jeans. All of this is pretty gender neutral outside of sizes and fabrics and who looks so close anyway?

Away from work is a different story and here I have to say my dysphoria is more about my internal dialogue than it is about other’s reactions.

I have breast “enhancers”, silicone shapers, which give me the correct shape. I wear pretty much women’s clothing exclusively although I do often wear those same T-shirts, sweat shirts, and jeans as I do to work depending on my mood and how lazy I feel. 

 I really do have a decent wardrobe at this point, tops, pants, black and blue jeans, mock necks, turtle necks, sweaters, cardigans, pullovers, some button up blouses, three quarter and full sleeves. I happen to have some tattoos). I also have a decent collection of shoes and boots including flats and heels, sneakers and even a pair of furry house boots.

I also have acquired some jewelry, a necklace, a bracelet, and ring which I often wear regardless of how I want people to see me.

In addition I also have a Winter coat and a leather jacket for Spring and Fall. I have several scarves, though I want to get more and two purses, one with matching wallet.

I also have two wigs, though how often and where I wear them is a point of contention with my partner. If you look through my posts or “About” page you can see me with them on.

99% of my shopping is through thrift store, consignment shops, and garage sales. As I like to say, I have champaign taste on a beer pocketbook!

If I buy anything new it is only when there is a great sale.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, much of my current problems are internal. It is the way I project my fears and expectations onto those around me and not the way I have been spoken to or treated. In fact, as time passes I find I am greeted with female pronouns and generally treated as a woman more often than not. Those time when I am not, it is because I have had to use my birth name or am presenting androgynously enough the other person isn’t sure how to address me.

The fact I am so often aware of those things which I feel mark me as “different” is more on me than anyone, after all, I am the most aware of those things being an issue, most people don’t even notice. This is true of my voice which is a major sticking point to me. I have been told time and again it is more than passing, yet to me it is completely wrong… I don’t know what I think it should be, but it isn’t what I hear. 

As for the other part… well, there are ways of reducing how noticeable such things are and I am looking into those. Thankfully they aren’t overly expensive as such things go and I plan to have something before Summer arrives.


Let me add something here… In the end it doesn’t matter what I do, what procedures I have done, what training I engage in; there is only so far I can go in transition.

There will be a point beyond which I cannot pass, after all, my past is what it is and cannot be changed. Also there is basic biological differences between what I can achieve and what I would have been born with… bone structure, nerve endings, skin texture, hair texture… there is quite a list of what will always set me apart from my sisters. The thing is, only I can come to terms with such things. Only I can become fully comfortable in my own skin. There is no magic pill for it. I have to do it for myself and this is what I am struggling with at the moment. 

Yet you know something?

Right now, with all of the ups and downs, doubts and fears… I feel more complete and at peace with myself than I have err felt in my life.

I can look in the mirror, see who is there and smile because, makeup or no, hair or no, half asleep or wide awake, it is me there and she is a beautiful person.


Have you ever wanted to break open the emotional piggy bank and let everything out, but your afraid to because other people are watching and they might not understand, might take what you say or do the wong way or worse yet, use you as an example of what they should or should not be thinking, feeling, or doing?


Maybe I’m just too sensitive for my own good.


When I first started blogging, I let everything show. I was wearing my heart on my sleeve and everyone could see when I was bleeding to death, even those times I couldn’t see it for myself. The thing was, I didn’t think about how my words were impacting others. I guess hiding behind a computer screen made it all seem surreal. Yes, I was I was in pain, lost and confused and I needed some way to make sense out of it all and writing just seemed to be a natural way to do so… those cool, black letters sitting on the screen gave me a calm, rational way to look inside my own head. The problem of course is, others get to look as well.

I first began to worry about his when I thought I was acting like a puppy chasing my own tail, just going over the same ground again and again, but I still didn’t connect the dots.

Then one day I did. I mean I really, really did. I have seen others reference something I said or even an entire post and while it was amazing to see, I failed to appreciate just what was happening. There were people out there, real, living, breathing human beings who read my words and they had a large enough effect someone felt a need to answer in their own way.

That’s enough to scare the be-jebbers out of me when I let it sink in.

I understand the power of words, I know how helpful they can be when spoken at just the right moment. I also know how dangerous they can be and how much damage, unintended or otherwise, they can do when misspoken.

Once, a long time ago on a service far, far away; I was quite active in message boards and chat rooms. It was all very interesting. I met some great people and had some fun times jumping from one place to the next. Yet it didn’t feel real to me, not really, until I got into a singular conversation with a young lady and I made a terrible mistake.

You see, she confessed to having been raped when she was younger. We spent a good deal of time discussing this and the fact she blamed herself for what happened… I meant to tell her is wasn’t her fault, that she did nothing wrong… I typed away and hit “Enter” and then read what I had just sent…

“It was your fault.”

One stupid, thoughtless typo and I had just destroyed someone life. 

I was horrified, I tried to explain, I tried to apologize, but how can you ever undo something like that? Simple. You can’t. Ever. I was able to work through it with her but it took hours, days, and even now I doubt the damage was ever undone in even the smallest way. Just thinking of it now, all these years later, still makes me sick to my stomach. We did stay in touch for awhile but eventually she faded away and I can only hope and pray is she was alb to get the help she needed and is living a happier life today. But I’ll never know for sure and I have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.

Knowing this, I am ashamed of the fact I again fell into a place where the words didn’t hold that same sense of danger as they did that night so long ago. One would think I would never forget a lesson such as that, but I did. When it finally came back to me, it nearly paralyzed me. I’ve been deathly afraid of opening up this way again, to show to you who read this that sometimes I end up fighting the same battles over and over again. To show there are good days, bad day, and some really horrible, terrible days when I find myself wanting to physically harm myself. I’m afraid to show the extent of the emotional scars I carry. The depths to which I sometimes fall. I know, we all know, life isn’t a perfect rose without thorns. It can be dirty and nasty and it can hurt you. Really, really badly. The thing is, I don’t want it to be my words which cause such pain. It rips my own heart to pieces when it happens and I can never fully forgive myself.

This has meant days when all I can do is link to news stories, or maybe reblog a post I think is interesting and some times it’s just a simple little poem to fill the empty spaces…

But it hurts my writing when I try to censor myself. When I try to polish off the edges of my emotions. 

Sometimes what I think and feel is like walking across a parking lot covered in glass shards. Sometimes I am so overcome with emotions my face is soaked with tears… How do I convey such thing to you? I mean really… in the desert which is a computer screen, where words are truly black and white, without all of the inflection of a human voice to carry them….

How do I do this?

More to the point, how do I do this without causing harm where none is intended? How can I show you the hope I hold in my heart even when I am crying? How to I shine a light into the darkness when I am terrified of the dark? How do I show you… any of you…

That despite all the pain, all of sadness and fear, there is a reason to continue on. A reason to fight for a future which might never come, but never will unless we demand it?

How… how do I show you I wouldn’t want to do anything other than what I have, made the decisions I have made, walked this road I have walked, putting one foot in front of the other even when it seems pointless because I simply could not imagine doing otherwise…

Internet Down

Tonight’s post is going to be short. I lost my Internet connection in a wind storm and Comcast claims they can’t get someone out to fix it until Monday. I’m posting this from my phone, so I’m not totally cut off but typing is a pain.
I might hunt up a wifi hot spot tomorrow so I can do a proper post, I’ll just have wait and see.

Into The Future

Right now I’m not sure where I am going with this. When I started I just needed someplace to put all the things in my head. A place separate from myself where I could set things out in black and white and in doing so, force myself to really think about things in a way which allowed me to see them more clearly. As time as passed and I have come to understand myself better the need to share these inner conflicts has become less. I still have my moments of doubt, but now it seems as if things are getting a little repetitious. 

I’m thinking I want to start really looking at the various news stories, opinion pieces, even other blog posts regarding all things Trans* and share whatever I find of interest. I know many of you read my blog for the personal aspects I share and I will continue to do so when I have something worth writing, but I want to go beyond what now feels like being one diminutional. Just as with the other parts of my life, I want it to grow and blossom. 

As I said, I don’t know what this will entail, but I hope everyone will continue along with me as I continue my journey.



With A Wimper

I am writing this not because I wish to but that I must. I know, when I am finished and this is posted, I will regret having done so, but it can join the host of greater regrets which weigh upon my heart.

I have been through much since I first began this blog. More than I could have imagined. Yet I know there are many women who have gone through the same and much worse, yet they have done what I know I cannot. They pushed through their darkest moments and reached for their dreams. Refusing to back down no matter how great the cost.

I have been told I am strong, brave, courageous. I am none of those things. I am a coward. Afraid to risk everything to be true to myself. If you want to look up to someone, look up to them, not me. I don’t deserve it.

As time has passed and this road has carried me further along, I began to fear where I would find myself.

That first night A asked me if I needed to be a “real” woman. I knew she meant going through surgery, I told her no and that is still true at this moment, but I also thought I would never want to go even part time outside of our home. I couldn’t imagine going out that door as a woman. Now I have been out and the desire to do so is growing. Not for holidays or special events, but every day. I know now what it means to be my true self, to be seen and accepted as the person I have always been and anything less is becoming more than I can stand.

I think I knew, deep in my heart, I would find myself at this point, facing this decision. To either except this truth about myself or to turn back and except what I know will be a pain filled, difficult life, but one with which I am familiar. This isn’t about self sacrifice. This is the cowards way.

They say the first time you give up is the hardest, it gets easier after that. It’s true. At one point or another I have given up on hopes, dreams, desires… everything, even life.

This is just one more.

I don’t know if I am going to continue to post or not. After this I doubt any one is going to care what I have to say and I can’t blame anyone for leaving. I really don’t know what I could ever say again that might matter…