Mid season finale of The Walking Dead, the survivors finally find Sophia the little girl from their group who panicked and runs off. Despite a coordinated search for her, she was virtually right under there noses all along. In a powerful last few minutes of the episode the producers manage to engender sympathy for the "walkers" lost humanity and tragedy at the fate of a little girl.
I know its just a TV show but when an undead Sophia emerged from the barn I burst into tears and cried and cried. The pain of the mother all too real.
A bit of an over reaction on my part but it has been a stressful week or two. The uncertainty of my employment status, the frustration of finding enough time to do everything. But mostly the hurt feelings and grieving over "J" and I's imminent separation proved too much.
I never feel so bad as when "J" and I argue. I did not head down this road blind, I knew where it would lead. Do I wish I never started. Yes and No.
If you are wondering how the Christmas party and visit with old friends went, good but more about that tomorrow.
Hugs,
April
Here are British psychobilly band Demented are Go with my fav Wanda Jackson tune:
What am I up to, mostly looking for work, being a "mom" and writing when I have a minute. The terrible fall/early winter cold has almost dissipated and with its retrial hopefully a return of my old energy.
My cooking skills have improved dramatically as I am usually responsible for dinner, the search is always on for quick and tasty recipes.
Transition wise my phone voice must have improved as I had two Ma'ams from different telemarketers. Gas station attendants are also much more solicitous.
Had my first phone interview as April as well!
Two rather nerve racking events coming up, the neighbourhood Christmas party, so far everyone has been very nice but I do not speak with everyone on our street on a regular basis. I am sure the entire neighbourhood has seen me out at some point whether it is going to pick up the children from school, raking leaves or working on a car. But for many it will be the first time the see me up close.
There is also a trip planned to see some old friends from university. They were initially very upset to learn of my transition and the eventual break up. I would not be too nervous meeting them one or one or even as a couple but a gathering of each family including children makes it a much more uncertain proposition.
Culturally (or what I classify as culture…cars and rockabilly) interests me this moment is Lincoln Mark V's the Mark V superseded the Mark IV of course, I have a 72 and 76 model (who knows I may even get top keep them after the separation as they are still not much of a valuable collector car).
The 77-79 Mark V is mechanically the same as the 72-76 Mark IV but had a new angular body with the same neo-classic design cues. I have admired them for some time and would love to have a vinyl roof delete model in silver, or a triple white loaded model, top of the list is the fifty or so coach built convertibles. Be still my beating heart. Oh yeah make sure they all have the 460 V8.
Other topics of fascination, Elvis' girlfriends after Priscilla, Linda Thompson and Ginger Alden. Linda was later married Bruce Jenner and music mogul David foster and also the subject of a brief reality show.
The last Lincoln Elvis bought (yes he had Mark IVs too) was a white 77 for Ginger. Ford was sold out and a special call had to be made to Detroit to locate a car immediately. After all that trouble the big Continental was too much for Ginger who prior to that only had a three speed bike. Elvis bought her Cadillac's "international sized" Seville.
While we are talking about Elvis, check out his last "travelogue" movie Live a Little Love a Little, (I have featured it here before) the office scenes where he juggles two jobs, as an advertising photographer/executive and a pin up photographer have a definite Mad Men feel about them. To match his new success he gets a cool apartment, new suits and a 68 Imperial convertible to drive around in…. very cool!
Musically I am still listening to Teenage Head's complete discography. Wish I had seen them live when I had a chance. But I will leave you with an alt take of Elvis' T.R.O.U.B.L.E. from 1975:
It snowed the other day, a little wet blowing snow but ominous signs of what is to come. I am not a winter person and before anyone in even colder parts of this great Dominion call me a wimp I have lived In Thunder Bay and Sudbury too and have experienced its Siberian like temperatures.
Makes me want to run to Florida or the South of France! I await my invite in the mail dear constant readers?
But the little snow we had reminds me of how close Christmas is and how far behind I feel. Not enough resumes out, not enough work on my voice and name change paper work. I seem to be so busy just being a "mom" dropping off or picking up, getting dinner ready. When the school day ends at just after three until all are in bed I cannot begin work again till well past nine pm….by which time I am usually beat.
No I don't believe this is divine retribution for my past sexist ways I was always very aware of how hard stay at home parents worked.
Needless to say I am rather behind on car work as well. The Seville is running and should be ready for its mandatory safety check. I finally got the exhaust manifold off the Lincoln Mark IV…wow what a job requiring all sorts of ingenuity and tricks not detailed in the official Ford manual (six volumes). As usual trying to do most of the work myself to avoid further enriching local mechanics. Grease, rust particles and foundation do not go well together.
I have also churned out a new automotive article for a domestic buff magazine entitled The Top 10 Cars to survive the Zombie Apocalypse….I know I know it just writes itself. Yes a paying gig too! The image above was photo shopped for article thanks to "J". "Mom" and daughter zombie fighting team.
How is being full time going, great! I do feel so much happier as myself sometimes I think I need a good pinch to wake myself up. Being out and about amongst my fellow "man" is no longer such a concern almost second nature. Last week was also the first time I tried on clothes using the stores woman's changing room.
I continue to feel I am passing most of the time. The cashier at the store offered me a candy again and called me sweetie, the young guy at the pizza place called me Ma'am, the staff at the Napa auto parts store both male and female never seemed to notice anything.
But how much is being polite? The girl who helped me choose a new phone never batted an eye when I handed her my still male drivers licence.
OK one funny story, walking children to school, the youngest runs ahead to the crossing guard, he says wait for your mom. My little darling proceeds to tell him that I am her daddy and that I just look like a girl….then she bids him a cheery good morning.
Had a chat with my friend Krissy today on the phone it felt just like two woman having a conversation and I guess it was.
Hugs,
April
Here is the first single by local punk band Teenage Head. I have also been listening to their 1996 album Head Disorder, great!!! go and find it or their Trouble in the Jungle from 86 but the best has to be Frantic City 1980. The most rockabilly of all punk bands.
A strange week that seems to have slipped by far too fast. So much to do and even when not working full time I seem to have so little of it. Being a "mom" and home maker is also proving to take its toll on my working hours.
Emotionally up and down but no serious depression and I damn well hope it does not return.
Met with two girl friends this week one for lunch the other for coffee. Each is at different stages of their transition just behind me….wow suddenly I am the experienced one, what the heck happened.
Transition is a gift (a life saving one) but it is not cheap. No I am not talking about the not insubstantial cost of surgery…SRS…FFS…implants but the emotional, the relationships, jobs etc.
It is finally hitting me that "his" life is over and that the most important relationship is forever changed and finite. I knew it all along in my head but not my heart, I have the taste of ashes in my mouth.
It would make sense to play Bruce's the Price You Pay but that so so depressing I want to open a vein. No offence to his fans I am one too. Here is another tune with a slightly more upbeat sound if not message.
PS. Photo is me singing along....thank God this is not a VLOG.
Well while we are on a Bruce kick:
Tougher than the rest…the road is dark…
Now this is more my speed:
Open all night featuring a guy driving a first generation Cadillac Seville:
Well the unthinkable happened, no not split ends or a run in my last good pair of nylons, I was laid off Tuesday afternoon. There is an unfair shame in loosing your job, a feeling of worthlessness. I hate to even tell you dear constant reader….I want you to think me a successful woman but a blog like any diary should be about honesty.
I really believe I am psychic when it comes to job loss, over ten years ago I was laid off at the bank (found two jobs in a month or so….clearly a different time) and the day before I had a very ominous feeling about work. Same this time so I was not totally surprised and took it well without breaking down in tears…that came later.
Nothing to do with being transsexual, I am confident it was purely a business decision. The same one I would make if I had to.
Understanding is one thing, emotions are another. After I sat stunned in the parking lot for a good half an hour. I could hardly summon the energy to drive, I unsteadily piloted the Electra to a park by the lake where I could sit in silence and contemplate the speed hypothermia can kill. I Googled it later and it is quite an unpleasant way to die.
A beautiful pink and blue late afternoon sky, Canada geese flying south for the winter. The on coming tsunami of depression could be felt in every cell of my body but the cipralex I am on seemed to do a good job and prevented a full collapse.
I knew this job was a risk and I do not regret leaving my old one, it was a horrible environment that was killing me. This job was my ticket out and allowed me to transition. For that i am grateful.
In the very near past I was my job, it defined me, to loose that identity would have been traumatic. In the process of really becoming myself I have moved beyond what I do defining me and am surprised to find I am OK.
Ashley called we talked, would I go back, no the thought never crossed my mind. I AM April, to go back would be a lie. My experience full time has been brief but my confidence has grown immeasurably. It will be scary looking for a job as a woman but I will. It will be nice to start a new job (hopefully) as April with a lot less baggage.
"J" called we talked she gave me a wonderful pep talk, I waited a while longer said goodbye to Lake Ontario then drove home in silence.
The other day determined to make a nice dinner for the family I made a lovely Shepard's pie with fresh mushrooms, salad, french bread etc. Turns out I used some expired chicken broth. I had to throw it all away. I was so upset and had a bit of a breakdown all out of proportion to a ruined dinner. Clearly I was more upset about the job than I told myself.
So the blog continues to morph, the transition story continues, now I can also document the trials and tribulations of the job search process for a trans woman in the 21st century…..great googly moogily….stay tuned.
Times like these call for the blues, here is Johnny Lee Hooker with Boom Boom from my favourite movie of all time:
I had intended to post a buoyant post about Halloween but my mood has taken a bit of a downturn lately. I would not say that the euphoria of going full time has worn off it is just that the price we pay has become clearer.
I will leave those thought for later in the week and deal with the celebration of All Hallows Eve first.
For the first time since I was nine or ten I wore a costume. Despite Halloween being the perfectly acceptable and safe time to indulge in one's feminine side I never did. In all my closeted years I was never invited to or wished to attend a costume party. Nor would I have had the courage, as Jenny pointed out on her blog It would have been just too close to home and I would have been afraid someone could tell I was enjoying it a bit too much.
So this year I spent too much on a costume, a Fallen Angel, short black bodice dress with black wings and a black halo. Type casting perhaps?
My friend Genni who lives close by invited me to her Legion (Legion as in veterans and their relations, not the fallen angel sort of legion) Hall for a Halloween costume party dinner and dance. A number of Genni's friends at the Legion already knew about her. We were quite the pair, both in four inch heels (no I don't wear these normally….mostly flats now) and her in a beautiful Disney style Snow White costume complete with royal blue cape.
Funny I would have declined if I was not living full time. Needless to say we were one of the main topics of conversation and apparently the next day too. We were sitting with a group of women and I was applauding myself for seemingly passing when the lady beside me said I don't know how you guys do it in those heels. Perhaps she meant guys in the general sense. She seemed rather confused by me, especially when I told her I had children…I could almost see her brain working …..is that humanly possible?
Later in the evening an older lady whispered in Genni's ear, the table across the room was debating my genetic origins and she had been sent to find out the truth. Genni replied that I was a girl, she turned to her friends and said, "told you so". Ah victory is mine!
The dinner was very nice and I had a great time, everyone was friendly despite the curiosity.
Later we met up with our friend Dan at the Carrigan Arms, they had a live band all dressed as characters from the Wizard of Oz. A rather scary looking biker asked me to dance. He was not dressed as a biker he really was one. I was afraid he would not take kindly to any disappointment at finding I was not entirely kosher so to speak. So I asked him what he rode, a Harley of course, what model I asked, a full dresser, really I replied belt or chain drive? I think he got the hint. Was I chickening out, perhaps I should have danced with him.
Halloween night I was just April and tested my patience escort five girls around the neighbourhood trick or treating. Hope you like our pumpkins, the product of a few hours of carving Sunday afternoon. The vomiting one was my oldest daughter's idea.
Hugs,
April
The party is over boys so close those coffin lids....
I rarely feel regret at not transitioning earlier in my life. Of course I wished I had been born the right sex from day one, it would have prevented much pain and confusion for myself and others.
I cannot regret the life I lived, I did the best I could, I am lucky to have beautiful children that I would not have otherwise and to have experienced a close, loving and supportive relationship.
That relationship is evolving and an eventual separation will occur, nevertheless it has not ended in acrimony and hatred like so many "normal" marriages.
The past is the past and it is only the future I have the ability to change. Generally words I can live by but occasionally there is a longing for what I missed by living a good deal of my life as a male.
I recently received a copy of my old schools annual newsletter (about the size of a small paperback novel). I attended a boarding school in the UK with roots going back to the sixteenth century. When asked I usually described it as a cross between Tom Brown's School Days and Lord of the Flies. A very Victorian institution, it had a great deal of influence on me mostly for the good. And no you wisenheimers it is not the cause of my current predicament. It was there however that I began to realize the depths of my dysphoria.
As a child I hated it and was terribly homesick by my final year in the senior school I had come to accept it as my home.
The current issue featured article detailed the school's transition to being co-educational. Girls were only admitted beginning in the early seventies. By the time I arrived they were a distinct but entrenched minority. Reading about these pioneers and even recognizing a name or two was an odd sensation. Both a feeling of nostalgia and loss, reminding me that I am for now still something of an outsider looking in at the world of women.
Week Three
Life goes on as normal as possible, there are days I feel I pass better than others. I haven't had any unpleasant experiences.
One event of note was taking the children to swimming practice, they insisted on using the ladies changing area and not the family one. I was not going in the pool myself just seeing that they changed and made it to their classes on time. I have always used the female washroom when out but this was a more public experience and one where my presence if read could be construed as objectionable by some.
No one seemed to notice and I watched on deck until "J" relived me so I could get dinner going.
On a more light hearted note I was flirted with by the older gentleman cashier at the grocery store. He looked a bit like Santa Claus and offered me a candy. I have no intention of running off with him to the North Pole but it was rather validating and sweet.
