I’m only a few months into living my life full time. Being me is so rewarding. I can’t imagine how much more rewarding it would be to have transitioned when I was entering puberty… or 20… or 30.
I actually feel sorry for people who scream hate at us for expressing who we are. They have such a narrow view of life. And to think they fill it with hate. How miserable they must be. Oh, sure, they’ll claim joy or happiness now and then. They will never reach the level of joy, peace and contentment we feel when we can finally take a breath and start being ourselves.
This little girl gets to do it correct.
I wish I were as lucky as Rebekah. Nevertheless the sense of relief at her living a full life as herself brings me such joy. 1 less person living a hollow life.
In times of grief the first thing we turn to are our memories. We look back and remember a time of happiness, of friends and family, of inclusion. And then we look at what we have now and lament the losses.
I happened upon old photos on Facebook this morning. So many people are gone. So many good memories lost to time, with only a few snapshots of the events.
I remember living in Huntington Beach, CA. The temperature was never above 85, never below 50. Rebecca and I took daily walks with the dog. (Peanut?) My weight was the lowest in the 10 years before and since. Life had challenges but life was good.
I remember driving with James and Rebecca up to Lake Tahoe. We took the 395 – the back road, up through Nevada. We stopped at an inn and ate a wonderful breakfast just South of Carson City.
I remember the Monterey Bay Aquarium. What an amazing place! And the massive viewing room with a seamless 40-foot long, 15 foot tall glass window looking into an enormous aquarium.
I remember staying at that World Mark room. It was a small townhouse right on the bay.
I remember when James was born. I remember watching them weigh him, do all the usual newborn tests. Then holding him. This precious tiny thing was a piece of me.
I have to say, James has always been a really good kid. I really wish I could be there now just so he had 1 less stress in his life.
The only passage I see myself possibly breaking is Deuteronomy 22:5:
A woman shall not wear anything that pertains to a man, nor shall a man put on a woman’s garment, for all who do so are an abomination to the Lord your God.
Luke 10:27 tells us we are more than the body. We also have a mind, heart and soul. (If those weren’t separate then God would not have included them.)
But what am I? Sure, my flesh is male. But my mind and heart are decidedly female. (I don’t think my soul has a gender.)
So how does Deuteronomy 22:5 apply? Clearly I am a man dressing as a woman. But I am also a woman dressing as a woman. Is the flesh more important than mind and heart?
No matter how I dress, I’ll effectively be cross-dressing.
Okay. So that’s a wash. I am still a sinner regardless. I must pray forgiveness.
God is Good!
I made the announcement feeling more nervous than I’ve ever felt in my life. It wasn’t verbatim but I followed my speech.
They gave me a round of applause.
So many are here to support me! Chuck gave me a big hug. A few people nodded and a few just moved along. But… wow! Just wow!
And here’s Tim (IT) shaking my hand and offering his support.
I come out at work tomorrow morning, 10:00 am ET. And shortly thereafter I will be making the announcement with the rest of my programming team.
We’re called the “BusWare team.” BusWare is the app that runs on buses; operates all the bells, whistles and lights; and monitors a bunch of things like engine performance, and passengers coming and going. It’s a HUGE project with thousands upon thousands of files. I’m proud to be a team member.
I figure the speech will go something like this:
Hello. I’ve called you all here. No, really. I arranged this meeting. Don’t worry. It’ll be quick.
(Take a breath.)
For as long as I can remember I have suffered from a condition that constantly puts me under tremendous stress. I have finally reached a point where I can’t deny it or hold it back any longer.
I am transgender. (Wait for a few seconds.)
My body is as you see but my mind has always been female. Thus the constant stress of looking one way and feeling another.
Last October I started my transition. That means I am actively working to change my body to be as female as I can possibly make it. I hope the changes are starting to show.
If you are willing, please call me Rachael. But I will not take offense to Bob.
Questions? (Answer if any are asked.)
If anyone ever wants to talk privately, please feel free to grab me. It takes a lot to upset me and I’m very willing to share what I know.
If any of this upsets you, please feel free to get Ziad and/or HR involved. They all know what’s going on.
Well, that’s it.
Thanks for your time.
Maybe I should get a “Hello, my name is…” sticker and slap it on my chest for the rest of the day.
After tomorrow the only person in my life hopefully oblivious to my transition is James.
Ever wonder what would happen if you woke up a different person? In a very real sense that is what I am doing. I have spent over 30 years keeping a large chunk of myself stuffed into a tiny box, hoping the box holds forever. It didn’t. About a year ago the box broke and in December 2016 it shattered far beyond repair.
So who am I?
I am a girl.
I am a creature of the night. **
There’s never been any doubt of those facts – at least not for me. What I have learned is…
I am submissive. I love letting others make decisions. I’m usually so easy-going that I rarely need to pick something thing over another. That’s not to say I can’t decide, only that I have no problem letting others decide for me.
**Edit: This is not the same as “evil.” I think and work best after dark. Some call it “night owl.” But today I call it “creature of the night” so my friends have a reference to draw closer. From this I can show them God’s love through example.
Did justice prevail?
It’s official. I’m a villain. I’m the bad guy and need to be stopped. I mean I was out of the house and not bugging Rebecca when she served me with a restraining order. I must have done something truly horrible.
Oh, yeah. I’m transgender. Her faith dictates that I am a leper and must be excluded.
Rebecca played dirtier than me today. The result was she got what she wanted. I sincerely hope it works for her. I will grant you I did get more right to see James, but it’s still conditional on Rebecca’s agreement. I can’t imagine the loss she must face. No more cooking or cleaning or foot rubs or back rubs. No more help in the back yard. No more support and love. No more games. No more laughs.
No more best friend.
I’ve learned things from my friends that could help her in so many ways. But lepers are not allowed to mingle with royalty. We are too dirty.
Oh, well. We all lose. I lose a wife, a life style, and much access to my son. James loses access to his best friend and father. Who wins? All in the name of …
I can’t stop listening to Red: Of These Chains.
P.S. I make it a point to never have enemies. I don’t want to waste my time and energy on people that don’t deserve my attention. I don’t know what to make of Rebecca. She rose to the status of nemesis yet I still love her. 12 years of dedication doesn’t end overnight.