I wasn't the only one with a "Coming Out" story in my family

In May of this year, I removed any pretenses of my own making, which served to deflect the attentions of anyone, including my family, to who I truly am.

The reactions were mixed as expected. Six months later I can see perspectives held by friends and family members for what they are, their own opinions of who I am and what they believe to be truth in the World. I can allow them to live in their beliefs with the comfort that many only want happiness and eternal life for me, as they understand it.

In this process I have received numerous words of comfort from friends and old acquaintances. Many professing offers of support whenever they may be needed by me. This outpouring is even from friends of friends or barely known coworkers at previous jobs. Yet the greatest support I have received to date is with someone else sharing their own Coming Out process.

After a half of a year into this, I was left comforted by the reactions of my immediate family, whether it was positive or negative. For the positive was unexpected, and the negative less than feared. However, the conversation I had with my father last Monday, was to set me free.

We, at some point in our discussion, entered upon the topic of how my "process" was going, how my level of acceptance from others was impacting me. Fairly enlightened subject from a man I feared my entire life. I proceeded to explain that ultimately, the level of comfort was of my determination, and that it was my acceptance of others that would see me through. What followed surprised me.

My father is Head of the Parish Council at the local Catholic Church. He chooses to attend daily services. He has a political viewpoint which runs to the Conservative side of the spectrum. He has told off colored jokes in the past. But this night, we strolled in the realm of spirituality and I was enlighten.

Our discussion from six months back had my father relating my parents thoughts at that time, that I might be gay, but that when I started dating, they felt I was just going through a phase(referencing my crossdressing behavior as a preteen). That, presently, it would be easier for him to understand me if I was before him explaining that in fact I was gay. For he had a context, an understanding of what homosexuality is. Yet, transgender was more difficult. He also shared that,he would need to understand transgenderism better and the only context he had was a mutual friend of his skiing buddy from our very same hometown who transitioned 20+ years ago. So in seeking truth, he asked me how my process was going. As I explained the details I could see a different reaction on my fathers face, for I was speaking not technically, but from my heart. I spoke in terms of spirituality and not of physicality. He then offered me this. " I can only relate to you from my own Coming Out process, and have grown to understand the word Empathy.

My parents were Carter Democrats, blue collar Baltimorians at heart. Raised Roman Catholic, they had a profound spiritual conversion in the late 70's. They became born-again Christians. My father was to relate to me his experience in coming out for Christ in a world which looked askance upon such beliefs. I too, as their child displayed my disapproval at their following. My father named his newly formed company Christian Real Estate. Lost friends and business associates all because he was being true to himself. His process, as he relates today has given him empathy. He can seek to understand what the Christian Scientist believes or of what the mindset of Socialist political opinions may hold. That true Christianity offered us humility through our differences and tolerance for our shortcomings.

I hear, read and see much in the way of attacks upon others, simply because we do not like their view or our perceived lifestyles. And these from the community of diversity towards those without such open mindedness. I, as a professed child of God, am ill equipped for such thoughts. For that, I am grateful.

Wow, 5 years later and still powerless

In wishing to follow the suggestions from someone I hope to grow spiritually from, I'm writing. I'm writing on how I'm still powerless. Yet before I can talk about that, it's best to describe how I lacked the proportion of the ability to think straight and to utilize my human resources to solve my problems.

I learned some hard facts about what little power I did possess and what means to affect changes lay outside my realm as early as the age of 7. For in that year I was to die twice but not for a power greater than me.

During the summer before my family moved to West Laurel, my parents were friends with a family in that neighborhood whom had an in-ground pool. While swimming that beautiful summer afternoon, their child tipped over the pool raft I was clinging to and sent me to the bottom, 8 feet down. At 7, I was unable to swim and being a shy tyke, nobody notices you missing right away. I will say that the image depicted in a movie where the sound is muffled and the field of view is slightly distorted from the motion of the water is spot on. Even better is the sight and sound of cavitating water. Very clichéd, yet accurate. In my case it was produce by my father diving into the deep end to pull me out ( a pattern since repeated on more than one occasion ) I never learned to swim until I was 15 and to this day still carry a fear of deep water.

A few months later my family moved into the home I was to grow up in. Only a few years old at the time, the fresh basement was still unfinished. My father, an avid and accomplished pool player had his table moved in, however it was not set up yet. The movers had laid it on its side, pitched on the bevel of its top, leaning on the cast iron drain pipe and the iron pole supporting the I-beam. Seemed sturdy but was not Big Wheel proof. My younger brother decided to repeated bang his ride into the back of the unsprung trap until it snared its prey. SNAP. I heard a creak then felt the table violent snap towards me, frozen by fear, something moved me back a foot or two, then darkness. I awoken to the greatest amount of pain my body has ever recorded. A mark yet unsurpassed. The table came to rest on my chest, breaking my arm in the process. I have not recollection of how long I lay there, or how I got out. I just remember that throbbing so intense, I wanted to die.

In neither case was I able to control the events which were about to unfold, nor effect a change once they transpired. I was powerless to stop any of it.

In more simplistic terms, my entire youth is a shining example of things outside my influence. Whether it be an excruciatingly delayed puberty or being prone to an uncontrollable flood of emotions, namely crying, and sometimes for no apparent reason. From school yard bullies to being "mugged" at the People's Drug store in Landover Mall, fear became frequent running mate.

In my childhood I would find myself with every desire to have my homework done before the weekend was over, yet time and time again, I was watching the end credits to The Wonderful World of Disney and glancing at an empty sheet of paper which was to be my homework. Each occasion had be swearing I'd never do that again. Each Sunday brought more disappointment.

Then there were the late nights. Restless, irritable and discontent. Sneaking out after midnight, coming in before dawn. Trips to the woods to drink and smoke, never able to leave until its over ( my typical bar experience too). I wanted more than I was getting, but I could not break the routine. My drinking revolved around socializing. I drink when I needed to fit in, to feel normal. It took the edge off of the uneasiness and it gave me stature amongst my peers.

When the responsibilities of life began to

Year 1 or is that 2?

When a baby is born in China, using the old traditional method of counting one's age, the child is already one. Then a year is added each Chinese New Year. So, on this basis, everyone in China is a year or two older than their chronological age. 

My friends like to tease me. They see me attempting to present as male and laugh. They tell me I'm the last to notice I'm already full-time. A good question becomes, is full-time the destination or just a mile marker?

When I was a child, I found it impossible to relate to most of what my friends were into. Those things I did relate to, were done so in order to fit in, to hide from myself and what I truly wanted in life. This set up a series of disappointments and denials spanning 30 years. Yet when I accepted my nature, just as what it is, one of many natural variations, I could regain my place as just a regular human being, with all of my foibles.  This was not without its challenges. First of all, there was no text book on growing up transgender, let alone transsexual. Sure there were women who made a public splash with their transitions; however the lack of serious journalism on these events made competent study difficult. I was on my own. Eight years and some hard knocks brought me to a decision. 

A friend of mine recently acknowledged an anniversary of sorts, her first night out, in public or private for that matter, as her true self. This is an amazing feat to say the least. I still remember the fear and anxiety of my own first evening. To have killed two birds with one stone, presenting AND going out, was inspiring. While I missed that night, her conversations from a prior meet up stuck with me. By the time I met her again, I had changed my Primary Care Physician, started a regimen of anti-androgen and estrogen, and was planning my "coming out". 

What had inspired such a change?

Why was I taking action on progress so feared before?

I have heard it said that when the "pain of remaining the same outweighs the fear of change, you will let go". Did I ever let go and in a big way. It was obvious that some fear still existed and that it had been outweighed, but why? How? What extra pain was I feeling, or was the fear dissipating? Questions  without answers devoured my thoughts. Steadied beliefs and theological abstractions, personal relationships and permanent security felt like polar opposites on X and Y axises. In my black and white world there were no shades of gray. I am either severely neurotically oppressed or eternally doomed. I'll be loved by all or a spindly old maid. 

I draw from a belief that my actions need to the result of right thinking. In order to achieve right thinking, I must subject those thoughts to four qualifiers.

The first of which is honesty. Am I being completely honest with myself about my situation or the situation around me? Even the slightest self deception will corrode the actions I might take. 

Secondly I must be selfless. When the decisions I make are not based on how I can be of service to others, I run the risk of being fueled by my will.   Self acceptance and a conviction to honor myself serve all of us living with doubt. My experience may be part of that which assuages others fears or doubts, once they are shared. It’s possible, and I suspect highly probable, they will also at times stand to serve as testament on what NOT to do.

Quite as important is my need to be forgiving and devoid of resentment in my process. Nothing, absolutely nothing destroys my peace and journey as resentment does. I have to be responsible for my character and leave others to live as they see fit.

Most important of all of these, even though the others are indispensable, is faith. I have to be willing to take action on my beliefs and convictions once I form them. All is lost without it. I have the right to be wrong. I exercise that right frequently, yet without faith, I could not continue. This journey will take me places I cannot imagine.

I cannot say I practiced these for precepts perfectly, in fact, I know I did not. That is part of being human for me. I made decisions, took actions and constantly re-evaluated my results. Right or wrong, I own that, my past. 

I believe full time is a mile marker, just like any other of life's monuments. And whether I'm One or Two is purely a matter of perspective. There is no right answer,for me there is only a process of seeking an answer.

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