Lisa Empanada's "The Pain of Being Just Like You...What If I Had Died? (A True Story)"

Sometimes events conspire to become something more.

Last Saturday, August 3, 2013, I was in Baltimore for a party.  It was a combination birthday/ "affirmation" party.  Lisa Empanada was turning 25 (so her cake said) but was also going Full Time as a woman (except for work.) 

The party was for her family, most of whom hadn't met Lisa yet.  They KNEW about Lisa, but the reality of their kin becoming a woman?  They hadn't seen her.

I was invited as well, along with four others.  She wished she could invite more, but couldn't. 

I wrote in more detail about the party, and the storm of emotions it generated HERE.  In any case, that night, I went to sleep at the Ramada Inn, and I had a very vivid dream.  I awoke crying.  I went through the whole day in a bad mood (right, Hayden?) until I arrived home and started typing like a madwoman.  I typed something I called "The Blog Entry I'll Never Post," as it was for Lisa alone.  It was the dream- I needed to exorcise it from my soul.  Melodramatic?  Maybe.  But true nonetheless.

I sent the piece to Lisa.  She read it, and said she was moved.  (She said more than that, but it was a private communication.)  The next morning, she asked if she could share it with people.  I agreed.  I figured she'd share it with her family.

And she did... with her Extended family.  Her Facebook family.

I didn't expect that.  At all.  She'd never spoken of the events of that night.  I knew about them because I participated.  I am the one who called her therapist... repeatedly, earning her fury.  Lisa pulled out of the Darkness through strength of will and the Love of her family.  I kept my knowledge private, as it should have been. But I didn't know the whole story until I read what Lisa wrote today.

And I cried my eyes out... again.  I was on a break at work, and left the building to cry.  Her words were so amazingly powerful.  Lisa is a gifted writer, so gifted I'm jealous.

I commented on the facebook post about the power of Dreams, which is a subject I'll visit again soon.  The piece I sent to Lisa is embedded in her story exactly as I dreamed it.  I still see the dream in my minds eye, clear as a trauma just witnessed.  And I still cry when I think of it.  Is it possible that my sleeping mind contacted an alternate reality?  Or is my subconscious trying to teach me something?  Or perhaps God (if you believe in her)?

I DID write a vague blog about how I was feeling when the events you're about to read about took place, but I attached no names to it. However, Lisa's picture DID appear in that entry, which you can find HERE. 

Lisa and I at Keystone, March 2013

In any case, now you have the background to one of the most powerful pieces of writing I have EVER read.  I repost it here with Lisa's kind permission.  She asked me to do a light edit for spelling and grammar, which I did (especially to my bit, as it was typed in a storm of tears and sent unedited to her.)  You will see what I wrote, and how she framed it... I really think her part is a masterpiece.

And if it helps just one person, all the tears will be worth it.



The Pain of Being Just Like You...What If I Had Died? (A True Story)
by Lisa Emapanda
Posted on Facebook- Tuesday August 6, 2013

"I am just like you.

And I turned off my facebook account too exhausted to continue. Why bother?

I am just like you.

I felt myself falling over the cliff and tree branches jutted from the rocks. If I grabbed one, I could stop my fall, but I would surely lose my grip again and start to fall...again. So why bother?

I am just like you.

I wrote my goodbye note, trying to justify what seems so unjustifiable. Yet everyone was still going to be disappointed in me. Why bother?

I am just like you.

I stopped doing the things that mattered and wanted to close my eyes and feel what the absence of pain truly felt like. I could decide to go on but I would forever be in some kind of pain. Go on? Why bother.

I am just like you.

After turning my facebook account off in late March I set in motion a sense of isolation and purpose. I spent most days crying, if not on the outside, then certainly on the inside. Nothing made me smile. Nothing could make the pain go away. I tried reaching out to my friends but I did not want them to be burdened... besides I had a plan and I didn't want them to be a part of it. I would not be stopped.

I had contact with just a few people at the time and I am certain it was because they had thought to reach out to me and not the other way around. They saw the signs. One called my therapist and I was enraged, not for the caring effort that she made but because it might waylay my plans. I had to learn to be more careful lest someone fucks things up and I wind up having to survive...that would totally suck.

Sandy and I left the therapist's office on April 9th. I had asked my therapist if she had ever lost a patient. She said no. I thought to myself "That's about to change."  On the ride home I turned to my spouse and asked if she loved me. She told me she loved Tom and that she liked me. I was Tom...but not anymore. I was finished. My poor therapist: I was glad that I barely knew her. I tried to sleep that night but there was whispering on the porch. I had plans for that weekend and I reminded myself to write the check from my business account for its remaining balance. I went outside I was in a fog. My spouse said my eyes were expressionless. I just told her I was tired. After 1:00 am my daughter and ex-wife pulled up to our house. They live in Fredericksburg- two hours away. They were coming to take me away. They were coming to stop me. I was delusional. I had plans; I was exhausted...the free fall had begun.

My daughter said that I had a haunting look to me as it seemed that I looked right through her. I got up and went inside the house went out the back door and got in my truck. As my ex came towards me I put the truck in reverse...I had someplace I needed to be and no one was going to stop me. I just had to be there a few days sooner. That perfect plan was now being winged as I thought about how much time I had. I needed at least an hour (or so I thought.) I turned off my cell phone as I drove up the street. I made a right onto a street I had never in 10 years driven on, and parked. I calmly went to the back of the truck and opened it. The generator started on a single pull. This is working perfectly. I closed the door and returned to the driver seat. I slumped down and tried to get comfortable. This would all be over soon. I took really deep breaths mindful that I had shorter then expected time to get to where I was going. I never felt more at peace. I was so exhausted that I welcomed this day. I closed my eyes and thought to myself "Finally the pain stops...FINALLY!".

I tried not to think of those looking for me and I only hoped that they were getting further and further from my truck. As I tried to drift off to sleep I heard screaming and then a pounding on the truck. I hazily looked and my daughter was trying to break the window, first beating on it and then trying to kick it in. My first thought was how did she ever take that same turn, that turn onto a road I had never taken before. Then I realized today was not going to be my day. My left hand reached down for the door handle. My daughter and spouse gagged as the fumes left the truck through the opened door. The pain would go on, and the scars of what I had attempted to do would be etched into the hearts and minds of both of my daughters and my spouse.

OMG! I am just like you!

I thought I knew what would happen if I continued to live. I was wrong and I am certain that I am just like you.

My dear friend wrote the attached 'Blog' for me. She attended my Gender Affirmation Party this past Saturday. A day I did my best to never be alive for. Her story is poignant in that it is a reminder of what could have been if I were successful, if others did not see the signs and try to help me.

I am sharing these stories to tell you that all along I have been just like you, and the truth is that you are just like me....you don't have to die. You cannot possibly know what tomorrow might bring.

You are just like me...

Letter sent me:

Dear Lisa,

Yes, I am writing to you again, even though you will never read it. I just need to get things out sometimes, and writing is my therapy. Even the morons here understand that, even if they don't allow me access to a computer.

So I dreamed about you again last night. It seemed so very real. As I've written before, I don't remember many of my dreams anymore. I guess it's the drugs they have me on. But this one, this one I remember every detail.

How many months has it been since that night? Since I got the call to come to Baltimore as you'd gone missing. That horrible night driving around Loch Raven Reservoir on a hunch. The call just after dawn that a policeman had found your truck, still running. That unbearable morning, and the drive back to Pennsylvania that night. I couldn't go back to Baltimore for the services. I want to remember you as you were.

Anyway, the dream. It was summer, and we were in someone's backyard. I'd never seen the place before. It was wet; I think it had been raining. There were so many people I'd never seen. Isn't it weird how dreams are populated by people you don't know? Like your brain has a random people generator or something. I was wearing my long brown skirt and a tank top, which is odd as I don't own one. I had driven the Subaru, which was also weird because I wrecked that right before coming here. I drove four other people to this place. Hayden from Harrisburg was one of them. The others looked familiar, but I can't place them.

Anyway, you were standing in the middle of the yard as the chaos swirled around you. You were wearing a white sundress with flowers on it. You were holding a bouquet of flowers someone had given you. You looked over at me and the others as we walked slowly through the wet grass and mud. And you smiled. You smiled as wide and happy as I had ever seen you.

You looked positively angelic.

Anyway, in the dream I circulated around, and I saw a sign hanging on a battered above-ground swimming pool. It said "Happy Affirmation Day Lisa!" It was your birthday, and you were going full time. Sandy was there, smiling as well. So were your daughters. It turns out all these people were your family, and they were there for you on this special day.

I know you didn't believe in God and an afterlife, but I do. And by now you know for sure one way or the other, I guess. I really think that this dream which has seared itself into my mind maybe has a message.

You are in Heaven.

And your Heaven is to be surrounded by accepting family and friends while being the beautiful woman that you always knew you were, but would never be. You left us before you gave yourself that chance. Before giving them a chance.

I remember hugging you in the dream. In fact it's the last think I remember before the alarm woke me. We were holding each other, it was night, and I was congratulating you.

Then I woke up back here. This fucking place. The doctors say I'm doing better, but what do they know? They keep telling me to let go of the guilt, but I can't. The last conversation we had was that you no longer trusted me, since I called your therapist and told her I was concerned. I remember how sullen you sounded. I remember telling you I'd do it again a million times if it meant keeping you alive. I remember crying. And that awful night. I can't stop think about how I failed you.

I haven't stopped crying since waking up this morning. Sometimes I'm happy because you HAVE to be in heaven - what else could that dream mean? Somewhere, in some reality, I didn't fail you, and you are alive and a happy woman. Other times I am sad because I miss you so very much and I'll never see you again. Hell I don't even know if I'll ever be discharged from this place.

I miss you Lisa. I hope you really are in heaven and somewhere your dreams came true.

Hugs

Sophie



...and to think that this all really happened. That I had friends who saw the signs.

I know what it feels like to be certain that I could not go on. I now know what it feels like to be certain that I was wrong. If you are struggling and feeling as if you can't make it...I want you to know that you can.

I am just like you..."

At Lisa's Affirmation party, Aug 3, 2013  L to R: Me, Lisa, Ally

 

I Told Two Men...then Jamie

The circle grows.  "The deadly net of Knowledge."

In the space of two days, I told two people the Truth about myself.

Both were guys.  But their places in my life are very different.

The first is a former co-worker.  I'll call him Dave.  He lives with "E", whom I will now call Elizabeth.  Random names so I can re-use the letters.  If you'll recall, Elizabeth was the first "civilian" person I told about being Trans.  She was the person who helped me choose my outfit for that fateful Halloween 2008, when I reawakened.  And she met Sophie for the first time very recently.

Thursday, July 25.  So I asked Dave to meet me at Rock Bottom, where we used to hang out back when we worked together.  I arrived first and found a table in the bar.  I put money in the jukebox.  I waited.

Maybe ten minutes later they arrived.  And my stomach went through the floor.  I was suddenly VERY nervous.  You see, I'd told two others before about being Sophie.  And they were both women. 

This time, I was telling a Guy.  A Guy I'd known for several years.  And I was about to tell him... that I was a Woman.

No pressure or anything.

They sat down and we talked about their jobs overseas.  We toasted absent friends.  Ordered nachos.

I previously told Elizabeth that I would be telling him that night.  She knew what was coming. 

I told Dave about my wife wanting me to move out... and didn't tell him why.  At first.

I pulled one of my business cards from my pocket and held it in my palm.  I asked him if he had any idea why this was happening.  He replied he didn't.

I then slid the card over to him, face down.  He turned it over.

He saw my true face.

Picture on my Business Card

And looked at me.  I said "That's me.  I'm Sophie Lynne.  I'm transgender."

He stared at the card for a few moments.  I told him that Elizabeth knew.  And that so did M. 

He started asking the usual questions, which I answered.  And he said "Ok.  I'm still your friend.  This changes nothing."

I've seen him twice since then.  And he treats me the same as he ever did.  On Monday he and Elizabeth fly back to Turkey.

As to the second person, I told him on Friday July 26.   Let's call him "R."  I met him at Rock Bottom as well.  In fact I sat in the same seat, at the same table in the bar where a day earlier I'd told Dave.  R was late, as always.  I had an order of wings as I waited. 

 

When he arrived, we toasted with shots of Sambuca (we always toast with this)  to his late Father and to our mutual late Friend.  (I discussed his passing in my TG Forum column HERE.) 

 

I wrote about the encounter the following morning on Facebook:

LAST NIGHT I told my friend of 34 years about Sophie. 

 

He was special forces. Is a Man's man. We had a few drinks, talked about a few things, like my home situation. He kept talking about honesty and trust. Kept saying that. So I told him I'd been lying to him all our lives.

And I told him the truth. Took an hour.

And he Cried.

This Soldier... this Man... who I've known all my life, who didn't cry when he divorced or when his beloved father died... Cried.

... He cried for me.
 

And he grabbed me by the shoulder... and said "I will always have your back." And he repeated that. 

Again and again.
 

I dropped him off at his hotel (he's visiting from overseas) and drove home at 2 AM.

Crying.

This person I've known since junior high school. He was in my wedding, as I was in both of his (the second I was best man at the renewal of vows, as the actual ceremony was very private.)  He once told me he would "take a bullet for [me.]"  As I would for him.

Of all the people I consider my oldest friends, our old circle, R was the one I feared telling the most. I WOULD die for him, which is why I felt he deserved to be told face to face.  I feared that he would reject me out of hand as a traitor to manhood.

 

As I mentioned, he kept discussing how Honesty is the foremost quality of a man. That there are many qualities and "they blend like the metals we mix to make a good sword" quoting one of our mutual favorite movies.  But honesty is above all.  And then I told him.

 

Like all relationships when this is told to a person, there was a Before and an After.  I've never seen R cry before.  Ever. 

 

I've always looked up to R.  I've always thought he was what a Man should aspire to be: intelligent, physically amazing, funny, etc.  When he went into the military, I so wished I could be him.  He was my hero.  This was despite his many flaws; his womanizing, drinking, taking things too far. 

 

Then I saw him Cry.

 

And I admire him so much more. 

I saw R twice after that- once at a picnic and the day after, and nothing had changed.  Yet.  We've exchanged several emails discussing the process where he urges caution. 

Caution. I'm changing the course of my life.  To not think this through would be foolish indeed.  Yes, I'm being cautious.

Foolish?

 

So a week has passed since those nights.  And all is well where that is concerned.  No, I'm not posting entries as fast as I should, but I need time to reflect on them myself.  I can do no less.  Oh, and my readers deserve no less.  Or no more.  Or whatever.  Your mileage may vary.

 

Yet there was one other person who I felt I needed to tell.

 

On Thursday, August 1, I attended a game night at M's house.  In attendance, among others, were Dave and Elizabeth, also someone I worked with at the bookstore years ago (and her husband.) I'll call her the random name "Jamie."

Jamie is much younger than I.  She is a voluptuous woman, and possesses a beauty, internal and external, that takes ones breath away.  She is from Missouri, and like most people I know from there, Jamie is pleasant and plain speaking.  Where she differs is that mischievous look to her eye and the fire in her spirit.  She is almost as liberal as I, but manages not to piss people off with it like me.  Her husband is a VERY lucky man... and is worthy of her.

 

Jamie works in the publishing industry.  Like me, she lives for the Written Word.  As I only see her every few months, I decided that the best way to tell her about Sophie would be for her to read about it.  During Thursday night, one of the topics discussed was writing and blogging.  Later, as I was preparing to leave, I mentioned to her that I had a blog.  I told her that it was quite a secret- that my name appeared nowhere in or on it (A bit of a fib.  My drab name doesn't appear.)  She said she'd love to read it.  I told her M and Elizabeth had read a bit of it, and that Dave was aware of it, but probably hadn't read it.  And that she must keep her knowledge of it, and everything therein, a Secret from the world- even her husband.  She agreed.

 

Today, I messaged her on my drab FB.  She said she was willing to keep it secret.  I sent her the link- just like this:  LINK.  I told her in the email that I would answer any questions she had either via email or phone.

 

And I waited. 

 

I finished the weeding from a couple weeks ago.  Wife says I did a good job.  MIL said it "it isn't done."

 

Scorched Earth

 

I went to lunch with my "Big Sis" Mel.  She advised me to slow down the pace of telling people.  Probably a good idea.

 

 

On may way home, I called Jamie.  She was hanging out with her husband.  I asked her if she clicked the link.  She said she had.  I asked if we were still speaking.  She laughed.  "Of course!  I'll email you later about it!"  I told her I was relieved.  She laughed again, and said "You should know me well enough by now that I would support you in this!"  I thanked her.

 

So Jamie knows.  In the past week, I've raised the number of "Civilians" who know my Truth from two to six  (I told R he should tell his wife for me.  Yes, she's cool with it as well.)

 

Time will tell.  Maybe some or all of these people will drift away as they reflect more on what I've told them.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  As several of my Sisters have said, that will be the true test.

 

But in telling them, I tested myself.  My resolve.  My courage. 

 

My Honesty.

 

The Mark of a not just a Man, but also of a Woman...

 

Of a Human Being.

 

 

Visiting My Happy Place

 

I woke before dawn, as usual.  But this day I was not working my usual thirteen hour marathon between my two jobs.  No, today would be longer, but FAR more pleasant.

When the sun finally rose on Tuesday, July 23, 2013, the day was rainy and gray.  In the shower I shaved my legs and chest, and then, after getting out and changing blades, my face.  After a little more prep, I went out into the dreary dawn. 

My destination for the day was a familiar one; in fact one very dear to my heart.  I was going to Penn State University's main campus.  I do this many times a year, but this time... this time I'd be going as a Woman for the first time.

Why?  I saw it as an important step forward.  PSU is my "Happy Place"- the place I think of when I am depressed to try to cheer myself.  To be there as Sophie, to be there as the REAL me... priceless.  I'd been planning this for weeks.  As I was still crushed by the news of the previous Sunday, this would be exactly what I needed. 

Besides, I wouldn't be going alone.  I was going up to Amanda Richards' place for makeup, and she was accompanying me there.  She hadn't seen the campus since 1983 (she's an Iowa alum) and wanted to go.  And she offered to drive!

So in the early morning gloom, I headed toward Allentown.

On the road to the turnpike, I passed an electric sub-station with many transformers.  As I drove past it, a bird landed on the transformer and disappeared in a bright white flash and POP.

Feathers and yellow smoke.  Several crows were startled and flew away into the rainy morning sky.

A portent?

I arrived on time and filled with three diet cokes.  Amanda was there within a minute.  As I drove up, a mutual friend (we'll call her "Q") called me.  We were talking and it turns out that she and Amanda were in the same fraternity (different universities and times though.)  She asked if I'd mind if she stopped in during my session.  Sure!

I was half way done when Q arrived.  The discussion towards our Greek experiences, and colorful stories they were!

Later, Q sent me the following in a text (reprinted with her kind permission)

"I did find the juxtaposition between "frat-bonding" and all that getting made up kind of ironic and funny, thinking "oh, if they can only see us now.""

Soon enough I was ready and we were on the road.  Due to traffic, we were delayed here and there, and listened to Quadrophenia as we went. 

At one point we stopped for snacks at a "redneck" gas station and minimart.  I confidently strode across the parking lot.  Too confidently- Amanda said I was walking like a guy.  I received some looks, but no comments.

After a few hours, we arrived at Penn State.  I directed her the back way into town, through the fraternity areas.  Soon, we arrived at our first destination:  my fraternity house. (#1 on the map below.) 

(The map is by Penn State University, and is used without permission. No challenge is intended to the copyright status as it is used for educational purposes.)

(I added the arrows and blue text)

Amanda parked the car in the House parking lot.  There was a guy with two co-eds unloading his car and carrying things into the House.  He looked at me, and I smiled and said hello.  He looked away.  It occurred to me that I was a brother at the house before he was born.  I carried a yellow nylon mesh half shirt on which were my fraternity letters.  I used to wear it way back in the mid-80s when such things were in style.

At my Fraternity House

We were going to use my camera but it was dead.  Fortunately, Amanda brought hers.  And her camera is FAR better than mine!

I couldn't help but wonder what my brothers would think if they saw me.  They were for the most part a very rough group- very much into the guy thing.  I know that there were at least two gays in the house, both closeted, and maybe two others I wasn't sure about.  And of course, there was a TG: Me.  My fraternity has no national policy on LGBT issues, preferring to let the chapters decide.  My chapter has no policy on it.  I know that when I was an active, being proven gay was a one way ticket out the door.  I can only imagine the fate of a transperson.

Wearing my Letters

Amanda took a series of pictures from various angles.  Then we walked back around the building to the car.  The guy was still there, unloading his things.  He looked at me casually, then turned away.  For a moment, I thought of tossing him the shirt I carried, now twenty eight years old.  But I didn't.  I earned it, despite everything else.

Closed

 From there, we drove across campus to the Nittany Lion Shrine (#2), which was surrounded by blue tarp.  It was being renovated!  Re-landscaped!  No pictures there!  I was really disappointed as Lion pictures were one of the major reasons I wanted to make this pilgrimage. 

Cest La Vie

Oh well.  Amanda took some pictures from across the street and near the sign explaining what was happening. 

Sign Me Up?

We then hopped back in the car and drove across campus to our next destination:  Beaver Stadium.


We parked and I walked over to where the Paterno statue once stood.  Amanda took several pictures of me imitating the statue's pose, but really looked goofy (and fat) so I'm not posting them here.  Instead I posed at the spot.  (#3)

Joe was here.

And in front of the stadium.

#1 in my heart!

And more there.

Are you following me?

Then we drove back to campus, where we had dinner at one of my favorite places:  The Deli. (#4) The Deli has an immense beer selection, but neither of us had one.  After dinner, we went to a clothing store, the Family Clothesline (#5), where I bought some more Penn State tops (so you don't keep seeing the same one.)

At the Deli

Then we walked down College Avenue, enjoying the sunshine.  No one gave me a second look that I noticed.  Amanda asked some questions about the sights, and we both admired some of the scenery.  ;)

We stopped at Moyer's Jewelers (#6).  I wanted a new pendant, and I wanted it to be a silver Nittany Lion.  My online research showed that this place had one at a good price.

From there, to my favorite bar while I was a student:  Zenos (#7).  This place has an amazing beer selection.  Here we both had a drink.  I encouraged Amanda to check out the writing on the bathroom walls, which were usually pretty good.  More on that later.

At Zenos.

From there, we went to our last stop: the only bar I never entered either as an undergrad or any time... until then.  Chumleys (#8) is an LGBT bar.  We walked in, and it was far smaller than I always imagined.  There was a transman behind the bar who was so very nice, but I misgendered him.  (If you're reading this, I'm really sorry!)

I had a few drinks there to celebrate the day, and the fact that I was REALLY there- I was at Penn State as MYSELF for the first time!

After a while, we slowly walked back to the car and headed back to Allentown.  As always, the trip back seemed far longer.  On the way, Amanda introduced me to band she knew well, but I'd never heard of:  Joe Grushecky and the Houserockers.  They're a Pittsburgh band, and were straight ahead good time bar rock. 

We arrived at her studio, where I cleaned up and changed.  From there I went home.  I arrived at 1 AM:  twenty hours after waking.  I was SO tired!

But what a day it was!  I was glowing!  I walked around and no one cared about my being transgender.  I was at peace in my Happy place in Happy Valley.  This was the first time here.  there will be many more, God willing.

I mentioned the graffiti in Zenos.  I'd never been in the Ladies room there before, and I'm happy to report that the graffiti there is just as fun as in the men's room (which I never intend to see again.)  One piece stood out, so I took a picture with my dying phone camera. 

 

The words are perfect for who I am now and where I'm going. 

I hope all of my readers (especially the Super 70!) have a place as special to them as Penn State is to me, and may your thoughts of it bring you comfort.

May it shine a light on you.

Candid near the Lion Shrine

 

Glow Sticks on the Stairs

Saturday, July 20, 2013

It was a very good day.  Especially when compared to the day that followed.  Since I've written about the events of that day already, I can now write about this Happy Time.

It was a Third Saturday, and that meant Renaissance and Laptop Lounge. 

I had the day off from both jobs, so I moved my appointment with Amanda to an earlier time.  Why was I getting my makeup done?

Simple.  I'd be meeting someone for the first time. Some background is necessary.  The first "civilian" I told about being trans was a coworker I've been calling "E."  I wrote briefly about that HERE.  I told her and a few months later she moved to Turkey.  We've discussed some of my life as Sophie via text and email, but, to date, she'd never seen me AS Sophie.

Oh, she'd seen me dressed as a woman at various parties (including one in her honor), but that was my "drab self in Drag", not Sophie.  Not the True Woman.

Ready for the Night

BUT...

First I had another obligation.

I was asked by Dr. Michelle Angello to sit for interviews with students in one of her Gender Studies classes.  I was happy to be of service.  I arrived at 4:15 at the offices where we hold Renaissance.  The first interview was with a pair of people, one a masters student, the other a doctoral candidate.  They weren't prepared with questions as they'd just been told about this exercise upon arrival.  So, being me, I decided to mess with them a bit.  Eventually, the doctoral candidate said "Sarcasm is your armor, isn't it?" 

I smiled and said "Very good!  Nice observation!"  Then I started answering their questions.

I interviewed with three others, all of whom had very intelligent questions.  I gave all of the students my business card, which has this blog address on it.  Perhaps they are even reading this.  Or not. 

After the interviews, I went to ShangriLa, where I met my "Big Sister" Mel.  We shared a drink before E showed up... late.  She didn't even blink and we hugged.  It felt completely natural... at least to me.  I don't know how she felt.  While E met Mel before under different circumstances, I introduced Mel to her as my "Big sister, which means the one whose supposed to talk some sense into me." 

"That's a losing battle," Mel said.

"Impossible task" said E.

We hung out there for twenty more minutes, then E and I left for dinner at McKenzies, while Mel declined our invitation to join us and went home.  McKenzies was close by, and we were the first of our group to arrive.  Eventually there were six of us:  Myself, E, Katie, Amy (from my support group), and Victoria.  Also joining us was Monique, a genetic girl whom Victoria knows.  She was beautiful and lots of fun.  She also doesn't wish her picture posted on the Internet.

LtoR: Katie, Victoria, Sophie, E, Monique, Amy

Dinner was wonderful and the conversation was lively. 

After dinner, we went into the bar area, where there was a woman playing acoustic guitar.  I remained standing as the others sat, as my back was bothering me.  Immediately, three women at the end of the square bar started staring, pointing, and whispering.  A couple across the bar also kept stealing looks and doing their best NOT to look at me while they spoke.  A guy came in, sat at the other end of the bar, stared for a full minute, then took a picture of me. 

E asked how I could tolerate being an object of derision (especially since she's seen my male side anger).  I told her "If I'm going to live my life as a transwoman who DOESN'T blend in, then this is something I need to be able to take and laugh at."

We then went to Winberies for Laptop Lounge, where I changed into denim shorts.  There I introduced E to so many people.  She left at midnight.

In Shorts (Pic courtesy Angela's Laptop Lounge)

She told me later that she had a great time.  And that she was happy to have finally met me.

After she left, I fell into conversation with an admirer.  He was a nice enough guy, and was quite respectful.  I didn't send any signals saying I was interested, and he assumed nothing. 

The night ended as it always does.  This time my friend Amy offered the use of her room at the Hampton Inn clean up and change.  I drove her through the rainy night down Route 202 to find...

The Hotel was dark.  Power outage.


Amy and I walked in to find two hotel employees with tiny flashlights and glow sticks.  They handed us one of each and we walked up the stairs to the fourth floor.

The Glow stick

I showered by the light of the tiny light.  By the time I was finished, Amy was fast asleep, having not slept the night before.  So I took the glow stick and slowly walked down the four flights of steps in the humid darkness. 

I left the glow stick by the door so others could use it, and drove home in the rain...

Not knowing that in less than nine hours, my life would be turned upside down.

 

She Decided.

My Wife decided after over a week of thinking.

I was going to write about how fun my weekend was.  I really had an amazing day on Saturday, filled with new people, old friends and new experiences.

Happy on Saturday

But then Sunday happened.

I'll still write about Saturday someday, but Sunday was more... well... it was rough.

The Sunday after a weekend out as Sophie has always been brutal, and not just due to the "Pink Hangover."  Wife has always been very vindictive and makes me "pay" for going out with extra chores and often extra "motivation."  Like drill sergeant style. 

It started Sunday morning. Mother in law (MIL) lost it on me while Wife was at church with daughter. Seems that no matter what I do, she's unhappy or downright furious (kind of like how the Republicans regard President Obama.)  Then Wife came home and MIL bitched at her. As I was working on things in the back of the house, I didn't hear exactly what was said, but it was something about me being "lazy" and "never does ANY work."  W started bawling, and MIL left to go babysitting. 

Yes, someone put THAT witch in charge of their kids.

Then Wife lost it on me.  MIL wanted me to continue weeding in a copse of trees on the property.  It was already over 90 degrees outside, and my back was still a little sore from the night's escapades (wearing heels.) 

I told her that I'd go outside and work until I dropped dead from the heat as "that would make your life so much easier, right?"  I was very angry and frustrated at this point.

The weeding.  I'm not kidding- this really is it!

I went outside in the 90+ weather to do more weeding. I worked until I was ready to pass out and my back hurt VERY badly (maybe 45 minutes.)  This was the second time I'd worked on this job, and I still wasn't a third finished.  There were SO many weeds!  And so many thorn bushes!

I came back in, limping, bleeding from many tiny cuts, and absolutely soaked in sweat.

"Done yet?" Wife said with a bitter tone.

I just glared at her and took a cold shower. It was 90 minutes until I had to go to work.

After the shower, I laid on the couch in one of our rooms to watch Phillies and rest my back. Wife came in to bitch that the massive weeding job wasn't finished. I told her I was going to leave the room as I'd had enough. So I went to the bedroom, turned on the floor fan and lay on the bed, trying to cool down.  She followed me and and sat on the bed. 

I looked at her.  She looked back, her face red.  Then her lip trembled.

She started to cry.

She'd used this tactic many times in the past.  She cried and I was supposed to forgive her, cave in, and do what she wanted.  But I'd become immune to it.  It was always just a tactic.  Especially on a Sunday.

She cried and said "I'm so sorry.  I can't live with this.  I can't live with you if you get the operation.  I just can't."

She told me she wasn't going to move out with me- that she wanted to stay in that hellhole with her mother.  And that "she could never live with a woman."

She never wanted to see me as Sophie- ever.  Ever.

"I know you can't help it.  I know it's a physical thing not mental.  I know you don't want this.  But all I want is my husband.  I want my husband- not a woman."

That's when I started crying.

I told her I didn't blame her for her decision.  How could I, really?  I told her that I understood.  And she hugged me, and we both sobbed.

After we cried a while, we pulled ourselves together and talked a bit. Discussed options.

Option 1:

If we get the loan, we still get the house together.  This removes my daughter from MIL's toxic influence and provides her security.  Said house should be affordable by Wife without any monetary input from me.  I stay in the house until the changes reach a point that she finds intolerable.  Then I move out.  Perhaps during that time, take in a boarder to assist with the mortgage.   After moving out, divorce proceedings begin.

Option 2:

I move out ASAP.  Divorce proceedings begin.  She stays at her mother's with my Daughter.

Option 3:

I move out after thoroughly researching places, etc.  Divorce proceedings begin. She stays at her mother's with my Daughter.



She asked when I intend to transition.  I said it was at least a year away- probably three.  She said "Ok, we have some time then."



I've been Sophie now for four and a half years since my "re-awakening."  I've done a lot of research on being transgender, and I've read a LOT of life stories.  While they tend to follow a pattern, there are usually variations on the pattern.  Like different musicians interpreting the same piece of music.

And usually, the wife leaving is part of the pattern.  Almost a rite of passage.  I read somewhere that only 3% of marriages survive a spouse transitioning.


And now it's my turn.


I've received many comments on Facebook, where I gave a brief description of events.  People have been so kind.  I've also received many texts, emails, and messages.  Many are from those who have already walked this path and survived.  They offer wisdom and encouragement.  Still others are from those who will never endure this particular brand of hell, but send their support.

Some are from "admirers" who smell blood in the water and think I'll be an easy score.  Think again.

I planned for this to happen- for her to reject me.  I expected it to happen.  Perhaps part of me even Wanted it to happen.  But none of that...

None...

Makes it hurt less.

And it hurts.  It really does.

I keep crying.

Just Like a Woman.


 

Confession

I have a Confession.  I'm a Fraud.

First some background, and a warning- this one gets deep.

In my last blog entry, I revealed that I told my Wife that I was transitioning.  Since that time, I've received so many wonderful comments and messages of support. 

I quote:

"Thank you for sharing your life for us and for being as bold as you are in charging forward in the world."  Karin July1992

"You are one of the reasons why I keep going, why I am determined to stay on the road that I know will only cross my path again and again every time I purge and turn my back on it... [cut]
It will be nerve wrecking for me as it will be my first time out interacting with others as Emma. I will keep your strength in mind. I will remind myself of how you went through the same struggles and how you managed to tackle the obstacles."   Emma Rose Claybourne

These are comments on the above cited entry, but I've received similar ones on Facebook and privately as well.

And I Really appreciate them! 

Some more background:  I'm a former paramedic.  From 1984 through 1990, I was a member of a volunteer Ambulance and a volunteer Rescue Squad.  I've crawled into wrecked cars and run into burning buildings.

Even more background:  Growing up, I learned how to fight for several reasons.  One was that I was tired of being picked on.  Second was that I had (and still have) a VERY big mouth.  And third, fighting was a way of proving my manhood to all and sundry and suppressing my feminine side.  Hmmm does that sound familiar?  (I've discussed it before.)  Got my ass beat a lot too.

Now let's define some terms.  All according to the Oxford Dictionary.  And I quote:

Courage:
noun

• the ability to do something that frightens one:she called on all her courage to face the ordeal
• strength in the face of pain or grief:he fought his illness with great courage

Bravery:
noun

• courageous behavior or character.

Fraud:
noun

• wrongful or criminal deception intended to result in financial or personal gain:he was convicted of fraud prosecutions for social security frauds
• a person or thing intended to deceive others, typically by unjustifiably claiming or being credited with accomplishments or qualities:mediums exposed as tricksters and frauds

Courage is strapping on a gun and wearing a badge as a Police officer. Working as a professional firefighter. Carrying a weapon into combat. Teaching children despite vocal opposition to same.  Protesting Injustices in the face of organized opposition that is determined to silence you.

Having shown examples, provided background and defined terms, I again say: I'm a Fraud.

Fraud, Fake, Charlatan, Phony?

Why?

For all of my words, for all the encouragement, for all I've done...

I'm

Scared

Out

of my

Mind.

I'm so scared of the future that I want to cower and hide in a corner somewhere.  I want to pull the covers over my head and wish it would all go away. 

Pray for the Thunder and the Rain to quietly pass me by.

Fear:
noun

• an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat:

So for all the kind words, for all the support, how can someone labeled as Courageous, so brave, Boldly Going and all that, be so f**king Afraid?

Of what am I afraid? 

I'm afraid of being a Woman in a Man's world.  And worse, not even being a natal a woman- a Transwoman: an object of derision, irrational hatred, scorn, prejudice. 

I'm afraid of losing my marriage, my Daughter, my job, everything.

I'm afraid of crying Alone, of dying Alone.

But most of all, I'm afraid to live one more day as a male.  Of living this Lie.

Yes, I ran into burning buildings.  Yes, I am transitioning.  Yes, I fought people far bigger than me, especially when they were picking on someone defenseless. 

Yes, I told my Wife about who I am, what I am, and what I intend to do.

Courage?  Bravery?  Bull. 

Necessity.

These things needed to be done.  There were no other choices in the matter. 


People may have been trapped in those buildings, and I had the training and gear to possibly save them.  Those being picked upon needed a defender.  "If not me, then who?"

I can no longer live as a male.

Is doing what is Necessary being courageous, or just survival?

Can NOT doing what is Necessary be deemed cowardice?

Is being Afraid showing Cowardice?


Some would argue that to NOT be afraid of Transition would be Insanity.  I'd agree.  Still others argue that Transition itself is insanity.

So is my Fear the logical emotion in this situation, Mr. Spock?

Can Logic even be applied to a situation where every rational person would argue against these actions? 

Well, not every person.  Medical professionals are beginning to understand the need.  Mental health professionals work with people coping with this Pain every day.  And my fellow Transpersons?  They understand the rationality of transition... its inevitability... its Necessity.

So, I guess my argument comes down to this:  Is it Courage or Necessity to Live as one Needs to Live?  Is it bravery to be true to oneself, or is it necessity?

I can't answer that for you, dear reader.

I can't answer it for myself.

Perhaps Necessity begets Courage? 

I wanted to end this entry with an inspiring quote, perhaps from Shakespeare, so I went searching for one.

I found this page.  And on it I found a quote from some guy named Marion.

Courage is being scared to death - but saddling up anyway.   John Wayne.


I guess the discussion goes on...

Scary?

 

I Told Her I'm Transitioning

Last Friday night was brutal.

I told my Wife that I am planning to Transition. 

I mentioned this on Facebook, but here's the whole story.

The day started simply enough.  I went to get my hair trimmed at Donna's in Edison, NJ.  The night before, I told Wife that I was going to keep it long.  She asked why, and I told her so I wouldn't have to wear a wig my whole life.  She glared at me.

Then I went to the King of Prussia mall for some lunch.  There I connected with my friend Jen L and we went to visit our friend Erica who just had GCS.

By the time I made it home, Wife was in a pissy mood.  As usual.  So I had dinner, and left.  She asked where I was going, and I told her my storage unit.  Which I did very briefly, then went to my "Big Sister" Mel's place to hang out for a bit, and seek her council.  I was there for a couple of hours, then reconnected with Jen and a mutual friend at Winberies.  By that point, I was in a very down mood.  I'd been stewing on the events of the previous two weeks, among other things.

L to R:  Jen L, Hayden, Me at Winberies in June 2013

The restaurant closed and I went home.  Wife was already in bed, doing a crossword puzzle.  She glared at me as I came in.  "And where were you?"

I stripped down for bed and lay next to her.  I told her exactly where I'd been. 

The past week had been rough.  I'd been getting hammered by her and her mother the whole time.  I mentioned on FB that the previous weekend I lost it on Wife in a store (I didn't write about it in this blog as I wanted something more positive.)  So where last week I lashed out in anger, this week I had a whole different, unplanned reaction:

I started crying uncontrollably. 

All the frustration of the situation- of the night- hit me at once.

I curled up in a fetal position and cried and told her "I'm in so much pain!"  Repeated that several times.  She asked what was wrong.

I told her that I was so scared.  That when I told her about being TG over a year ago, and told her I didn't know where this would end up, that was correct at the time, that I was telling the truth.  But that had changed.  I'd started hormones with her approval, as it possibly may have stopped the inexorable march of the Gender Dysphoria.  It didn't.

Contemplating the Future

I told her again I loved her and didn't want to lose her, but that the pain was too much I was "probably going to transition."

And she started crying.  She said "I know that no one would want this.  I know that you don't want this.  You can't help it."  She repeated that quietly. 

We talked about the possible mortgage, and I told her that I'd understand if she didn't want me around.  I also told her about Spouse support groups.  She still wasn't having any of it.

"This is too much.  Too big" she said.  She repeated that several times.

I kept crying.  I never stopped.

We hugged.  I turned out the light. 

And since then... nothing.  I'm letting her wrap her head around it.

And I'm still scared.  Still have a roof over my head.  For now.

Since I posted this information on Facebook last Saturday, many have posted their good wishes and their thoughts, for which I am eternally grateful.

I took a Major and Necessary step, and did it ever hurt.  But now Wife Knows.  She knows where I am going and now we find out if she's joining me on the journey.

I am under no Illusions.  So very few marriages survive this.  At best, I can hope to manage the Crash, and hope that no one will be permanently hurt.  

"Plan for the worst- hope for the best."  Old paramedic saying. 

Plans are in place awaiting her decision.  Now it's just the waiting.  The Hardest Part.

From the Vaults of my Drab blog!

For a few years I kept a drab blog as well as the Myspace one.  I rarely posted to it, and in fact I forgot about it.

I just found it again.  The last entry was November 11,2009 and it was about Halloween.

My first anniversary as Sophie.  But written in such a way as people who know my drab side would expect.  It regurgitated some of the lies and cover stories I told friends and coworkers about that Halloween.

For comparison, HERE is a link to my Sophie blog from that time (back in the Myspace days.)

So, your homework is to read both, compare and contrast.  Essay due tomorrow morning at the beginning of class. 

;)

Ok, so here we have a drab blog dated November 11, 2009 titled Halloween 2009, 2 Parties and Breasts.  I've added some pictures from that time that didn't appear originally, but the text is exactly as it was, unedited (Except for names are changed to protect identities.)

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

Last year, I dressed as Lois Lane for Halloween and I remember asking "How will I top this?"

So I thought.  And I said to myself " well I did that in a week.  I have a year.  What could I do in that time?"

So I determined in early November 08 that I would do drag again for Halloween 09.  I consulted with my friend Josh Kilmer Purcell and he gave one BIG tip: keep notes of the whole process and see if it's a book.

And so I did.

I sought out crossdressers and transvestites.  I learned that they are people like me.  90% are heterosexual.  They just have this...Need... to dress like they do.  For this they need to hide or they'll lose their jobs as airline pilots, engineers, or whatever.  I have met many soldiers- some of whom are Special forces.

All of these "gurls" couldn't be nicer.  Fun folks.

And I learned from them.  I learned for a whole year.

Then as Halloween came close, my friend and colleague E again helped me with wardrobe.  My friend D did my eyebrows (REALLY thin, but oh well, they worked.)

I went to a specialist in transgender makeup.  Had my butt padded and some great looking breast prosthetics.  Illusion complete.  OMG- I didn't see myself in the mirror anymore!

So looking like some blonde floozy I went to where I work where jaws dropped and people laughed.  One customer hit on me.  From there to M's party.  Some people didn't recognize me.  Others laughed.  But I had FUN!  Lots of fun!

Halloween night was the Henri David party in Philly.  As I had all the pads, and an outfit ready, I would do drag again.  However this time I would do it among all the tg gurls I'd met all year.  Amanda, the amazing makeup person would be staying with me (for free as payment for her services doing makeup these two nights).  Another gurl would be there too.  Oh, both are hetero family men in case you're wondering.

This party was surreal.  So many amazing costumes.  So many people wanted my picture.  It wouldn't be an exxageration to say I had maybe 500 pictures taken of me in costume.  My t-gurl friends were very supportive and fun as always.

So 3 AM, and my feet are throbbing.  I'm waiting for the shower so I can remove the heavy makeup.  Did I top last year?  YES.  And I made some amazing new friends.  So now what?  Dump them and move on?  NO.  These are friends, and they helped me.  I can't wait to hear their reactions to my party performance.

So how do I top THIS next year?  I already know.


I'm taking my daughter xx Trick or Treating for the first time, dressed as her daddy.