And she's off

 As I start writing this, it's Friday August 14, 2026.  (Here's the part where I insert the cliche "where has the summer gone?  But I know that answer.). And next Thursday, my Daughter goes off to college.  

My little girl, who it seems like only a few days ago was born, is going to college.  She's 18.  She attending a state school not far from where she lives.  We both agreed Penn State was not a good fit for her, as lots of people sometimes makes her uneasy.  

She'll be majoring in early childhood education.  She asked my opinion of the major/career.  I tried to talk her out of it, citing 80 hour weeks, demonization by the right wing, hatred from parents, criminally low pay, and so on.  She remained steadfast.  This is what she wants to do- she wants to help others.  I'm very proud of her.  

Wife and I talked about this a bit today.  The two of them spent the last week together on a cruise.  I wasn't invited, of course.  She knows she'll be a "basket case" that day.  I get it.  

Random Beaver Stadium pic I took the other day

How do I feel?  Numb.  In so many ways, it doesn't change a thing for me.  After all, I was thrown out when she was five.  I missed her entire childhood.  In so many ways I'm a stranger.  After all, I'm currently two and a half hours away. At this point, I rarely see her.  After all, gas costs money and I don't have any.  Hell, I had to beg on GoFundMe to pay medical bills so I could register for fall term.

Oh right- school.  I finally got past the IRB (Internal Review Board) so I can start research.  I've done just that.  I observed the first of hopefully four training classes, and started conducting interviews.  If all goes well, I'll be done research by December , finish the dissertation, and, hopefully, graduate in May 2027.  Then I can be an over-educated retail worker.  I'll come back to the school topic in a bit.

What this means that for the first time in thirteen years, it'll be just Wife and MIL in that house.  No daughter.  It's going to be awfully quiet, even with two cats.  I wonder how Wife will get along in that environment.  

Does anyone even read this blog?

Anyway.  School.  As of this moment, I am not going back for fall.  I don't have the money and the student loan people (PHEAA) turned me down as my credit is currently shit due to all my medical debt (thanks for nothing Keystone BCBS).  Maybe I'll figure out a way to make it happen, but as of now, the dream is over.

Sorry folks.  I just wasn't rich enough.  Or smart enough.  

Men of the Skull Interlude XII: Transitions

 This is the last of the interludes.  I decided to steal a page from Bram Stoker and tell this particular story through letters, journal entries, and social media posts (because Stoke was a MySpace fiend!)

So the interludes mixed with the chapters and stuff mean that the entire book is now written.  Now it needs cutting.  Hard core editing.  

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Interlude XII: Transition

Blog entry 2013

The Darkness

Several months ago, my Sister Lisa Empanada committed suicide.  The following piece was written maybe a week later, as my mind spun deeper into the Darkness.  It's not a long piece.  I never finished it, as I just couldn't.

I must also say that I no longer feel this way.  Thanks to the help of caring people and of my therapist, I managed to pull away from the Darkness, and LIVE.  After all, I made promises.  Promises that I'd live to be the Woman I am destined to be.  I promised Lisa.

So.  Here it is: completely unedited.

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I am totally worthless.

I have no value.  I could die tonight and no one would know or care. I would lay dead for days before anyone would notice.

What am I anyway?  I'm a freak.  No one cares about the freak.

Let's face it.  I've failed at everything in my life.  I've failed as a man.  I've failed as a woman.  I've failed as a husband and a father.  I fail as a friend.  I can't find a real job, and can barely hold the ones I have.

I always say the wrong things.  I piss people off.  I do the wrong things.  hell, I chose teaching and where has that gotten me?  I work retail for fucks sake.  I'm poor.  Broke.  And broken.

What's the point anyway?  Who am I helping by staying here?  no one.  I'm a burden on all who are stuck knowing me.  Nothing but a dead weight dragging everyone down.

There's no point.  No point in being alive when i Know what follows.  And Lisa is waiting for me there.  We can explore the afterlife together, laughing into eternity.

I would be long gone before anyone even knows.  I could be at peace, away from all the pain.  Wife would be relieved.  No more Sophie to worry about or to be embarrassed about.  No explaining to daughter needed.  Both would forget soon enough and be happy.

no one needs me.  So I don't need me.  I don't need pain.  All i need is for it all to end.

 

Blog Entry (Excerpts) Tuesday December 31, 2013

Some things seems pre-ordained.

We ALL know that, as mortals, someday we will die.  We all know that we will be taxed by a government.  We know that trans-people will be senselessly murdered.

I also knew that my parents would reject me as a Woman.  I mean after all, I've mentioned how they treated me growing up.  Dad being ultra-macho Army and all.  I never give them a chance.

In any case, telling them was my next big step.  I decided that I'd write a letter so I could have my points exactly as I wanted them... 

 

So.  I wrote a letter.  Trashed it.  Tried again.  Trashed it.  Tried 14 times.  Full trash can (as I write first drafts on paper.)  Recently, Dr. Cerise Richards challenged me to post this letter to help others, so it follows.  I give permission for girls wanting to use it or piece of it to do so, just not for publication, where I reserve all rights.  So.  Here it is.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Wife and I are here today to tell you exactly why we are no longer living under the same roof.  As I have maintained many times, the fault is not hers in any way.  The issue is complex, which is why I’m reading this to you instead of just speaking.  I wanted to get it right.  Wife knows all of what I am about to tell you, and has known for nearly two years. 

There is something I have to tell you about myself.  While this is serious, I am NOT dying, nor am I intending to do so.  I have been hiding from and or dealing with this problem since I was four, and I really did not understand it.  I am sure you have realized that I have had problems and even though I have tried to maintain a steady face on the surface, something has never been quite right with me.  As you know, I’ve been in therapy for 13 years.  You also know about my hospitalization back in 1990.  For the past five years, I’ve been seeing a specialist to get a handle on my issue and of get a better understanding of myself.  You may have noticed some changes in me this year.  I feel better, both in general and about myself, than I have at any time in my life. 

 The medical term for this condition is called Gender Dysphoria and it is basically the condition of being transgender…

 

…This has nothing to do with how I was raised, my diet… anything.  I was BORN this way.  41%  of people with this attempt suicide as it’s a very painful way to live… 

This is not a choice; it is something that I have to do in order to survive.  I have been treated by a therapist for five years and also, saw a second therapist for a second opinion…

This may seem sudden and impulsive, but in actuality, it is not. I have been doing many activities as a woman over the last five years including attending the local King of Prussia transgender support group once a month, shopping and eating out regularly, and helping others who are on this path.  I have spent the last five years building an emotional support network, and have many close friends in the transgender community.  

All I want is to feel at peace and to have a chance to reach my full potential in life.  I will always be your child and I love both of you very much.  The reality is, mentally I have always been your daughter, not your son, and I hope you will be able to accept me.  All I am doing is making physical changes to help me become on the outside the person I am on the inside and be accepted. I will always be here for both of you to help take care of you.  

I realize finding this out is very painful for you right now, and believe me I have always tried to avoid facing this about myself mainly for this very reason.  The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, but in order to have any chance at a happy and fulfilling life, I have to make this change… I am the author of my life.  No one else has the right to attempt to form my life in the image they would have it be.  And my life is not based on lies.  My life is based on love and care, for my family, for my friends, for those that deserve my love.

I ask for your understanding, acceptance, and love.  I am passing through a very difficult time, and have already lost so much.  It will get harder, both for me and for you, but in time it will get better.  No matter what, I will continue forward.  I finally have a chance at happiness and peace in my life.  I’d love rather have you see me reach my full potential and that peace. 

You have many questions, and will continue to have them.  I will do my best to answer them for you.

 Love,
Lance
*******************************************************

A heartbeat.   Two.

My mum leaned forward in her chair and said “You are our child. We love you. This changes nothing."

My dad stood and said "Yes, we love you"

That was the first time in my 47 years that my dad said that he loved me.

 

 

Blog Entry (excerpts) March 12, 2014

The following is the [Book store] legal-department-approved letter that I will read to the management staff of my job on Monday, March 10 at 8 AM.  

On Tuesday, March 25, management will begin informing staff, and this letter will be posted on the break room bulletin board, and information regarding being TG will be made available.

On Monday, March 13, 2013, I will report to work as Sophie for the first time.

 

And now, the letter:

..........................................................................................

To my fellow coworkers

I must share the news about a major personal decision that will affect my appearance at work.  My doctors have diagnosed me with Gender Dysphoria (GD), a medical condition in which psychological gender is not in alignment with biological sex.  I am transgendered, which means I was born into the wrong gender…

…The process takes a number of years to complete, but the progress I have made to date has allowed me the ability to now start coming to work in my true gender: female…

 

Throughout the transition, I will continue to maintain the high performance standards that our company and I have upheld.  Post transition, it is my expectation that I will continue to excel at my position and maintain the good working relationships that I currently have within the company, my fellow booksellers, and with our customers…

HR have developed a plan to communicate my gender transition to our employees.  I am positive that we can accomplish a quick and effective transition.  It is imperative that we unify our message and information to assure the staff that we have a plan of action and that all involved are committed to a successful transition.  Office gossip or inappropriate discussions about my personal situation, as it is medical in nature, will serve to greatly undermine plans that have been developed, waste staff time and energy, and affect the performance on the floor…  

 

Journal Entry : Fri. March 21, 2014

Gazebo, Reeves park.  I started by telling her that I loved her very much, that Mommy loved her very much, and that this would never change.  I then told her there are boys and girls, but sometimes, so very rarely, someone comes along who isn't one or the other.  Blah blah blah.  And that Daddy is one of those people.  That daddy was born a boy but was supposed to be a girl.  And that now, Daddy was becoming the girl that she should've been all along.

[Wife] then mentioned that Daughter rememberwhat she learned about butterflies.  "What are butterflies before they're butterflies?"

Daughter smiled and said "First they are caterpillars, then they become a criss-lis, then they become butterflies."  She learned that the first day of kindergarten.

I smiled.  "Well, daddy is in chrysalis now.  And soon I'll become a girl."

“Like a butterfly!”

            “Right!”

            “Can we get ice cream now?”  

 

Transgender Forum Column (excerpts): March 23, 2014

This piece will be published on Monday, which will be my last day ever as a guy.  After that, it’s All Sophie, All day, all night.

So, to get this place took a LOT of planning and a lot of help.  Everyone does it differently.  And here I am going to tell you how I approached it.  Remember, this is my approach, your mileage may vary.  

Also, and I can’t stress this enough, if you don’t HAVE to transition — DON’T DO IT. Seriously.  It can and probably will destroy your life.

The process starts with the most important part — Realization.  After exhausting all other avenues, and still feeling the Intense Pain of Gender Dysphoria, to the point of knowing it means Change or…

After making that VERY difficult determination, I informed my Wife.  It led to a week of crying for us both.  It also led to me being thrown out of the house.  (We lived with her mother, and she threw me out for being a “freak.”)

Then the planning began in earnest.  In this phase, I worked closely with my therapist, Dr. Maureen Osborne, and my “Big Sister” Mel.

Okay, what needed to happen?  I needed to: 1. Set a date.  2. Inform my employers.  3. Inform family (for others this would be the first).  4. Prepare wardrobe and necessities.

The first part was difficult.  Timing is always delicate.  I decided to emulate my beautiful friend Stephanie by going full time at work upon returning from a conference.  In her case it was SCC.  In mine, it was Keystone.  That meant my last day as Lance would be Monday, March 24.  And my first day at work would be upon returning: March 31…

So, having started the ball rolling at work, I began planning how to tell my parents. I asked friends who had already done this, and they were incredibly helpful.  None of us transitions alone.  There’s a reason we’re a Community. Others have walked where you are now, and are usually happy to provide advice.  Especially about their mistakes.

In the end, I decided to write them a letter…  …They surprised me.  They accepted me… On a side note, my older brother laughed at me when I told him.  It was the first time in years I’d spoken to him, and I don’t see any need to speak to him again.

Okay.  What about closest friends?  I actually started with them first.  One by one, I met with them over drinks and told them.  One by one, they accepted me.  I was extremely lucky.  Over time, I honed my “presentation” to what NEEDED saying.  I’ll come back to that.

I decided I wanted to tell others that I simply didn’t have time to reach.  How to do it… Well, I’d been making videos for YouTube, so why not make one in drab, and send it out?  So that’s what I did. I made two videos: one for friends I’ve known ten years or more, and the other for more recent friends…  …I sent the one for older friends first. And so far, I have a better than 40% return rate, of which all but one was positive. I expected the rate to be far lower.  The one that wasn’t positive was essentially a “WTF?”  Then I sent out the other one, mostly to coworkers with whom I am close.  I think I chose well, as I have a 100% return rate with that, and all are positive.

I’ve been cautioned by many, including Donna Rose, that initial reaction is not necessarily long term reaction.  So all these positives my melt away like “tears in rain.”  But I need these positives.

All that remains is to post my Truth for the world to see on Facebook on Tuesday.  And for that, I am following the advice of my dear friend Jen L, who told me to approach it like a marketing campaign.  Keep it all positive — eliminate any negative.  All smiles.  All happiness.  Communicate with negatives privately, while thanking positives publicly.  Now?

I wait.

And I try not to freak out.

I have run headlong into burning buildings as a paramedic.  I have done things that chill my blood to think of them now.  And this?  This scares the living Hell out of me.  As I write this, Lance has two more days before Sophie takes over forever.  And I’ve never been such a huge ball of anxiety.  Thank God I planned this thoroughly in advance, because right now I couldn’t plan the strategy for a game of Candy Land.

Upon returning [from the Keystone Conference], I will have the Dreaded First Day of Work as a Woman.  I will deal with coworkers and customers.  If there’s an issue, I am not to engage- I am to let management handle it…  

*****************************************************************************

Social Media Post, 10 PM

March 24, 2014 ·

I must share the news about a major personal decision.  My doctors have diagnosed me with Gender Dysphoria (GD), a medical condition in which psychological gender is not in alignment with biological sex.  I am transgender, which means I was born into the wrong gender….

…The process takes a number of years to complete, but the progress I have made to date has allowed me the ability to live full time in my true gender: female.  This begins tomorrow: March 25, 2014.

My family and employer know.  Jen has been as supportive as she can, and my daughter understands the situation, and accepts it.  I will be off this week from work, and I will return to work next week as a woman.

I understand that there will be an adjustment period for everyone, but I would appreciate when you see me calling me by my chosen name of Sophie, and then using the proper pronouns like “she” and “her” in conversation…

…Thank you in advance

Lance Kandler
Aka: Sophie Lisa Kandler

***********************************************************************

Blog Entry

Today, March 25, 2014, I begin living full time as a woman.

I announced it to my "male side" friends on Facebook last night, and received many nice comments…

As I said, I announced last night.  Veteran readers know that today at my job, management is informing the staff.  Also, today I leave for the Keystone Conference. 

Last night was rather busy.  I stayed up past midnight, then couldn't sleep.  Why?
Nerves?
No.
I was crying so hard.

I was crying because I really wish Lisa had lived to see this day.  Yes, her loss still affects me that strongly. 

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Transgender Forum column:  June 16, 2014

The Price

If you’ve read this column before, you know a few things about me.  You know that I live full time as a woman, and I have done so since March.

I did so knowing the possibilities. Many of my Trans friends who have not transitioned wonder what this is like. They talk over drinks about the fun of wearing women’s clothes daily, and of no longer needing to hide.

And it’s a wonderful Dream. Isn’t it?

I went into this eyes open, knowing that this would cost me my marriage, and so much more.  I knew it could cost me almost everything, up to and including my life, as it did Lisa’s.

So is it worth all of this?

July 2014.  Still not there yet

What does this Price buy?  Well, there’s the basic stuff.  I go through my daily life and most people see me as a Woman.  I am addressed as such.  Usually.  As a woman, I can, if I wish, wear a dress to work, and no one cares.  The hormones have changed me physically.  I now have breasts of my own.  My skin has softened, as have my facial features.  I’ve been growing my hair for over two years, and now it brushes my shoulders.

All of these things were my dreams when I was younger, and they’ve all come true.

Some things have yet to happen.  I am not yet physically a total woman.  According to the protocols, I have nine months more to wait before I can be approved for that.  Then there’s that whole money thing.  I want my hair to grow much longer as well, so I can look like I did when I wore wigs, or a reasonable facsimile.  That will take time.

Possible side effects are varied. Estrogen causes moodiness. I have learned to cry, and that I cry often, sometimes out of nowhere. I have given up my Male privilege. Yes, it exists, and you don’t realize it unless you don’t have it. Many men treat women as inferiors. Hell, you’d think I got a lobotomy instead of a becoming my True Self.

Be prepared to lose people you thought were friends.  They will NOT understand.  How can they unless they have lived it?  This very night, I spoke to a friend I’ve known since 1980.  He still doesn’t comprehend, but he understands that I was in Pain.  How do I explain to him why I had to do what I did?

I don’t have exact figures for this, but if you’re married: kiss it goodbye.  Marriages that survive transition are so very rare.  Other relationships too.  People lose parents, children, neighbors… even pets.  I rarely see my dog.   Often times we also lose the places we live. And we can’t find others.  Welcome to my world.

We Lose.  And that’s the Price:  Loss.  And that’s what I tell people who say they want to transition.  I say exactly what I was told by my “Big Sister” Mel.  (And she was 100% right.)  I say “Are you prepared to lose EVERYTHING? Because there’s a good chance you will.”

What does one get for all of this Loss? What does the Price buy when it is paid?

Peace.

I am at Peace for the first time in my life.  I’ve written that many times, but what does it mean?  It means that I no longer feel “wrong.”  I look in the mirror and see what I feel I should’ve all along.  Well everywhere but down low, if you catch my meaning.  But that will change someday too.

I sleep in a bra and panties, as many women do.  I fuss over my makeup and hair. I look down and see the changes that the hormones made to my body — not during puberty as with most women, but recently.  

So that is the Price and what it buys. If I had a choice to be just an occasional crossdresser verses who I am now, would I have paid the Price?

Well, that’s a trick question.  And the Entire Point.  For me, it was transition or die.  There were no other options.  That’s how bad the Pain had become.  I have written this many times, and I’ll write it again here:

If you don’t HAVE to transition: DON’T.  It’s that simple.

If I were an occasional CD, I’d probably still live with Wife.  We’d still be a family.  So many other things wouldn’t have happened, like my impending homelessness.

I HAD to transition, and it has brought me the Peace I craved.  I paid the Price, and I’m still paying it today.  I will pay it always, like an eternal student loan.  Now I face the challenge of building a new life.

A Life as a middle-aged Woman.

My Life.

Men of the Skull Interlude XI: Fingernails

 Second to last of the interludes for Men of the Skull.  This one is about Linda Lewis.

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Interlude XI: Fingernails

Saturday December 28, 2013  Judge Upholds N.S.A.’s Bulk Collection of Data on Calls

Well, I guess it should start back when I found out about her.  My femme side resurfaced in 2008- that is true- but I knew about trans sites before that.  Around 2001, I was doing an internet search for fiction sites so I could post my work, and Fictionmania came up: a transgender story site.  I remember starting to read a story there and I was hooked.  I couldn't believe that there was a site that had stories such as these- stories that spoke to something that I had long buried.  From there, I started looking up other transgender sites, and very quickly after I found Linda.

Linda ran a website at the time, with pictures and her interviews from various magazines like Ladylike and such.  She also has a Flickr page, where she has thousands of fans. She was amazing, gorgeous, and untouchable: an Icon.  And she still is.

Heck she even appeared in ads!  When I re-awakened in 2008, I started looking for things that would improve my figure etc.  One of the places I found made scientifically designed hip pads for Trans people.   A new one had just come out and there, on the ad, was Linda- sitting on a stool in a red dress looking absolutely stunning.  Later in my search, I found a site that sold breast prosthetics, and there she was again- modeling the breast prosthetics.  I was like "this woman is everywhere!" and again I thought she was some kind of Royalty.  In addition, she did transformation makeup in Hollywood at Jim Bridges’ salon near a place called the Queen Mary.

In 2009, that I sent Linda a Flickr message, asking her about the breast and hip prosthetics.  She kindly responded, and I felt I'd been touched by the hand of God. 

Years later, Linda posted something on social media.  I forget exactly what it was, but she seemed very down.  She had a health scare of some kind, which I later found out was a collapsed lung.  She needed financial help, so I sent what I could.  It was then that she and I started chatting online.  I found out that we had a lot of movies and music in common.  A tenuous friendship began.

I decided that I was going to go to the Southern Comfort Conference.  A few of us wanted to help Linda attend as well.  Now this is saying something because Linda is a very proud person and doesn't like asking for help.  We figured out a way to get her a hotel room- she would room with a friend I knew, and between us we paid for her transportation.  I didn't realize when this started that by the time Southern Comfort came around, my life would have completely turned upside down.

At a mall in Atlanta, SCC 2013

And it was there I met Linda, and we became friends… when I wasn’t making her angry.

A couple months later, she was supposed to move down to Florida.  The details there are personal, I’ll skip them.  However, she was delayed- she couldn't move down to Florida, but her lease was up in Michigan.  She had nowhere to go.  I asked my dear friend M, with whom I was staying, if she could put Linda up for a couple weeks.  She readily agreed, because she is the kind of person who Helps.  So it was that in late December 2013, I met Linda in her drab mode at State College, Pennsylvania, where we had agreed to meet. (Only a week before, I was headed this way during a snowstorm to blow my head off, but I turned around.)  It was a rainy, snowy, messy day, and she followed me from there back to the house where we would both stay for another six months.  I lived on the second floor, while she lived in the basement, but it was during that time that I got to know the woman behind the Legend. 

Tuesday, December 31, 2013.  Bomb Attacks in Russia Echo Threats by Chechen Insurgent

Sandy Empanada was coming north to go to the Raven on New Years Eve.   I didn’t want to go as my knee still hurt from a bone bruise suffered in a workplace accident a couple of weeks before.  But I wanted to be there for Sandy, as this would be her first New Years without Lisa.  Linda had settled into the house and was willing to go out.  I wanted to introduce her around to the Trans Community here.  That's one thing she didn't have in Saginaw, Michigan: a community.  So, I went. 

I wanted to impress her with my makeup skills, so I tried a few things I’d learned here and there.  I then waited in the kitchen for Linda to emerge.  She took one look at me and said “Oh HELL NO!  Sit DOWN!”  My heart sank!  She pulled a chair from the dining room as I went to get my makeup per her demand.  She completely redid my look while teaching me some techniques I never knew.  M teased out my wig.  Not just teased- she got absolutely sadistic with it!  And it looked great!  I received so many compliments all night.  Linda met many people of the Philly Trans scene.  And she danced the night away while getting rather tipsy.  I didn’t drink, as I was worried about all the other drivers and police.

Raven NYE 2013

I thought Linda would just be there for a few weeks.  However, she kept getting delayed through no fault of her own.  Eventually she gave up on Florida, found a job, and we decided to get an apartment in Pennsylvania.  We moved out, found a third roommate Zoey (without whom we would have been on the street- and we will be forever in her debt.)  We lived there for a year, then moved from place to place, hanging on by our fingernails as jobs for me were sporadic.  As of this writing, she is my roomie in State College.  No one will ever replace Lisa, but Linda has helped my soul heal.  And hopefully, I’ve been able to help her as well.

Men of the Skull Interlude: Thrown Out

 This is the newest Interlude chapter for my book Men of the Skull.  It's based upon a blog entry, but includes other details.  

The interludes go between the semesters in the book and track my trans journey.  This one is placed between Summer and Fall 1988.  

The book chapter won't have photos in it, but they're here anyway.  Because.

*********************************************************

Interlude IX: Thrown Out

Wednesday, August 28, 2013  Obama Weighs ‘Limited’ Strikes Against Syrian Forces

That night I was informed by my wife that her mother wanted me out of the house, and that on that Friday she would be changing the alarm codes. I was given two days to pack up and get out.

Of course, there was no way in hell I could pack everything in that time, even though many books were already packed.  I posted about this on social media, received many helpful comments, and also received offers of help with the move. A few people came with their pickup trucks to help.  As did another friend: Jessica.

I'd known Jessica for twenty years. She was dating someone in my old D&D group, and we clicked.  We remained friends through the years and Wife and I attended her wedding.  She volunteered to help.

I thought for a bit.  How could MIL really turn the knife if she wanted?  Easy answer- announce to everyone I was a crossdresser while moving!  And of everyone involved in the move, Jessica was the only one who didn't know. She’d seen me dressed as a woman at parties four times over the years.  Perhaps she even suspected something.

So that Thursday night, I invited her to Rock Bottom, a bar we both liked.  And I told her my Truth.  Gave her a business card with my Sophie picture on it. She looked at me and said "So what?  I always thought you were one of the girls."

So now all that were helping knew about me.  That took away MIL's trump card.

That Friday, I worked at the book store. I also sent Wife a text.  You see, I thought when I was exiled, I would be gone from her and my daughter's life, and I wanted one last night of "normal" life with them before leaving. One of the things that Wife and I spoke about on our first date all those years ago was our mutual love of Star Wars.  She is as much a fanatic for the movies as I am.  We first bonded over this among other things.

 

So, as the last movie we'd watch together, I wanted to watch Star Wars one last time.  She agreed.

My whole life was coming apart- I quietly cried twice at work that day.

That night, after my five year old Daughter was in bed, I put on Star Wars, and as usual when watching it, my wife curled up and lay her head in my lap.  The opening crawl hadn't finished when she quietly said "This isn't the last movie we'll watch together.  We'll still watch movies."

 

I looked down at her with a questioning look.

"I'm not throwing you out of our lives.  I fully expect you to be in [Daughter]'s life, and in mine."

The tears welled up again.  I didn’t want to cry in front of her- I wanted her to enjoy the movie. 

The huge star destroyer swallowed the hopeless, helpless small ship.

No escape.

 

She fell asleep as the Millennium Falcon escaped from the Death Star.  I watched the whole thing.  And slept in my own bed for the last time.  At 3 AM, right on schedule, our dog, Nittany, put her paw in my face, wanting to go out.  I let her out and petted her a little extra when she came back in.

The next morning, I packed like crazy.  As did Wife.  Friends and trucks arrived at noon. I was quickly soaked with sweat in the heat.  Thanks to the amazing help, most of my things were moved where they were going in a few hours. 

Before leaving for the last trip, I took Nittany back to my old bedroom, and hugged her, petted her, and cried like crazy.

I also took a picture

Then I went to the "living room" where Daughter was drawing on a box we gave her to play with.  I hugged and held her and told her I loved her.

 

"What's wrong daddy?"

"Daddy has to go away for a while."

"Why?"

 

 

Wife waited out by my car.  We hugged and kissed… and cried. Both of us.

I drove down the driveway, away from the place I called home for ten years, and my wife of twenty years.

I pulled over twice on the way to the new place as tears kept drowning out my sight.

The plan was that I would treat everyone to dinner at Shangri-La, the local Asian fusion place that once held the transgender events: Laptop Lounge, and then some would come to Winberies, where the events had moved. I also invited my "Big Sister" Mel.  I took a long, cold shower, as I was really overheated.  During the day, I went lightheaded a few times.  I then did a quick job on my makeup, and I introduced myself to Jessica as Sophie for the first time.

Dinner was great, and most people went to Laptop. 

While there, Mel repeated something she’d told me many times: “Cry it out.  You don’t have to pretend to be a man any more.”

 

I returned to the house around midnight, thoroughly exhausted physically, emotionally, spiritually.  I washed off my makeup and collapsed into the bed I'd be sleeping in for a while. And cried myself to sleep as quietly as I could.

So in the short term, this meant that I was living by the charity of a friend. It meant seeing my daughter when I could.

But I wasn't in their day-to-day lives any more.

 

Spiraling...

 

But it also meant that I was free to be Me. I could come and go as a woman. I could go anywhere as Sophie, except for work.  

 

At Winberies that night

"You don’t have to pretend..."

 

I didn’t know how my life was about to become so much worse… and how soon.

 

************************************************************************

 

Over a decade later, when my daughter was sixteen, she was tired of the secrets and lies.  I was invited to a session with her therapist where she bluntly asked my “Why did you leave?”

For over a decade, I never told her- Wife insisted.  That time was over.

               “I didn’t leave- I was thrown out.”  And I told her the story as well as I could remember it, sparing no details.  After all, at this point, she could understand.

 

            And she did.

Sleep in the Stars, Big Sister

My "Big Sister", mentor, and one of my dearest friends, Mel, died on the morning of March 20, 2026.  She was 67, and been battling early onset Alzheimers.  

With Mel, June 2010

I had been at the Keystone Conference for the day to reconnect with friends.  I came back to State College and went across the street to my local pub to enjoy a glass of wine.  It was a rare moment- I felt content.  I felt I looked good.  

Then I checked my phone.  My email.  

Hi Sophie,

I hope you are well. This is Melissa's son, Mitch again. Unfortunately, I'm writing with some sad news. My father passed away this morning. As you know, she had been sick for a while, so it's in many ways a blessing that she's passed on. 

 And in a moment, I went blank.  I knew this was coming for more than a year.  But I hoped the day would never arrive.  As I was sitting at a semi-crowded bar, face covered in makeup, I fought back tears.  I paid my tab and walked out slowly.  I had to- I was wearing heels for the first time in forever.  Told you I felt good about my look.  I made it to the rainy sidewalk when the tears finally won.  The cliche- crying in the rain.  I could feel Mel's eyeroll from across the veil.  

I finally put up my umbrella and slowly walked back to the apartment.  All I could think about was her laugh.  The spark in her eyes that said "I know so much more than I'm telling you."  The smell of the lasagna she'd make when she invited me to dinner.  The stories she'd tell...

And so I cried.  

I slowly undressed, hung up my dress, tossed the bra onto the dresser...and laid on my bed and let the feelings flow.  "Let them out- there's nothing stopping you now.  You don't have to pretend to be a man anymore" she would tell me.  

After a bit, I emailed the news to he person who "assigned" Mel to me- my former therapist, Dr. Osborne.  As I wrote years ago, when Mel moved to Albany, 

I met Mel in 2009, at Angela's Laptop Lounge.  She came specifically to meet me, she said.  She didn't do many transgender events anymore, as she was pretty much stealth.  That said, she loved Southern Comfort Conference, where she saw many friends (she and I roomed together at my only SCC in 2013.)

 

Dr. Osborne asked her to advise me since, when Mel transitioned, she had two young children.  When I started seeing Dr. Osborne, my daughter was just over a year old. 

She moved to Albany to care for her ailing mother- who was dying from Alzheimers.  Did Mel know then?  When did she find out? 

She left in November of 2018.  Over seven and a half years ago.  I never saw her again.  Now, the next time I see her will be if her funeral is open casket.  Which I doubt.  

Our last drink.  November 2018.  

Oh, we talked of course.  She sent out almost daily commentaries on the news.  Her analysis, especially on financial policy.  You see, she was a gifted financial genius.  Seriously.  She made millions on Wall Street in the 80s.  

Those emails stopped in 2021.  Is that when she learned?  Or is that when she just... couldn't any more.  

The calls became less frequent.  And she didn't return messages.  Did I offend her?  In December 2024, I sent an email.

Hi Mel!

I haven't heard from you in forever, and the # I have goes right to VM.  I'm worried about you.  

Are you still there?

A week later, I received a reply.  

Hi Sophie,

This is ****, Mel's son. I hope you are well. I, unfortunately, have some sad news, and I apologize for not reaching out sooner. 

My dad was diagnosed with early onset dementia this past winter, and it's progressed pretty rapidly since. My sister and I moved her into an assisted living facility in March and into a memory care facility in North Jersey in August. She currently seems to have stabilized a bit and is doing okay with both good days and bad days. 

Unfortunately, one of her symptoms is pretty serious aphasia, and, as you've already experienced, another one of her symptoms is forgetting to charge her phone and generally not understanding how to work it. So in general, she is pretty hard to get a hold of and understand. However, if you want to send her a card, her address is 

*****

I was planning to give her a call tomorrow or Friday, and when I do, I'll be sure to mention that you reached out. I'm sure she'll really appreciate it, and I know I do too! 

I wrote a letter.  Trashed it.  Tried again.  And again.  I needed to tell her how much she meant to me.

January 12, 2025

Dear Mel,

            I’m writing just in case life keeps me from visiting you in NJ.  I’ll get to possible impediments in a bit.  In any case, I feel it’s important to tell you a few things.  Your son Mitch told me of your condition, and that this is the reason you’ve been incommunicado.  I’m so very sorry. 

            What I want to say (and hopefully I’ll see you to tell you personally) is how much you have meant to me all these years.  Without your help, support, and friendship, I literally would not be alive today.  You guided me through countless dark times and helped me celebrate victories.  I love talking about movies and music with you as your taste is impeccable, and you’re one of the few people who enjoy Dylan as much as me. 

            I know you are guarded as to whom you allow into your circle, and I’m honored that you allowed me in.  You’ve introduced me to so many new people and concepts.  I especially treasure the times you made dinner.  I wish I lived closer so we could dine together again. 

All that said, seeing you is a priority.  I want to talk with you again, just hang out, and give you a hug.  You’re one of the most important people I’ve ever had in my life, and I miss you.

As expected, No answer.  I made plans to see her- several times.  Each time life got in the way- usually financially.  

Then, that email.  Friday night.  In the rain.

I could write so much about Mel.  But she was a very private person- life taught her that.  I will say the following.  Mel was a math and financial genius.  She graduated from Boston University and went to work on Wall St. during the 1980s- with ALL that implies.  She worked for some of the most prestigious firms in the world.  She enjoyed weight lifting, music, movies, and cooking. Fine wines and Scotch. Dated beautiful women.  Married.  Two children.  The American Dream.

But...

There was this... problem.  She saw a therapist and said "cure me." There was no cure.  So Mel moved decisively.  Told her wife, divorced her (amicably), went to conferences and learned all she could, met some of the movers and shakers in transgender thought, made friends, and transitioned using the Top doctors in the country at the time.  Spared no expense.  She could easily afford it, even after the divorce.  

At work, She found that no one listened to her any more.  No one took her seriously.  After all, she was just a woman.  Then the firm for which she moved to the Philly area... "went in a different direction."  Her career was over.  Forced early retirement.

A few years later, against her better judgement, she agreed to mentor a scared new parent taking her first steps into her Truth.  Over time, we became friends, for which I'm honored, as she was very choosy about who she "let in."  Through Mel I met people and learned.  I learned through listening, watching, and not listening and paying the price.  

"Enjoy who you are, but never let down your guard."  "Transition should be your last resort- exhaust all other options save death."  "Get FFS (facial feminization surgery) BEFORE you transition and it'll save you a lot of grief." "Whether you think so or not, you will NEVER be prepared for transition, and the changes it will cause in your life.  It can destroy you."  "You don't have to pretend anymore..." 

She was also a huge baseball fan, and rooted for her beloved Yankees.  She told stories of sitting behind Billy Joel at the World Series.  Proof?  He signed her ticket.

Then there was the music.  She loved all kinds of music. Stones.  Who.  And above all, Bob Dylan.  She'd invite me to dinner at her place, and we'd listen to and discuss Bob Dylan records.  "If you're not busy being born, you're busy dying" the man would sing.  "Death to me means nothing as long as I can die fast."

But she didn't  Alzheimers is so cruel.  

Halloween 2010

Time.  I would give years of my life to her if I only could.  But in her case, death was a mercy.  

Mel was there for me when I was thrown out.  She drove me to the appointment to start HRT.  She was there to help me when Lisa died.  The night I sent my "Coming out" announcement we talked and texted extensively.  First day at work as Sophie.  At my "Debutante party." She was always there- without fail.  

But I couldn't be there for her as she faded away.  No one could help her.  But I will be there for her when she is celebrated.  And I will carry her wisdom and love with me the rest of my life.  And I will continue to pass on her wisdom to the "eggs" I mentor.  Like she did with me.  Against her better judgement.

Mel loved quoting authors, so here I quote Keroac from On the Road.  It's fitting.  You see, Mel was one of "the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."

Sleep well, my dear friend. My Big Sister.  As Bob sang, I'll  "See that [your] grave is kept clean."

SCC, 2013