Hiding the Better Angels of Our Nature

Being Trans means that you are basically living in stealth all the time. Trying to be a man when inside you really are female. Or visa versa of course. Does being female but having to live as man mean I am in stealth mode?

Trans means never doing anything to bring attention to our true selves. To avoid at all costs any hint that we have female characteristics or tendencies.

The mundane becomes torture, I used to avoid shopping malls and still do when in drab. The predominantly female oriented shops caused terrible dysphoria and before I came out to my SO I was afraid my longing sideways glances at the store windows and a life denied would instantly give me away.

I work in a very male environment and have to be a typical bloke (as our English cousins say), laughing at the sexist jokes and mean spirited humor. Inside I recoil in disgust longing instead to be one of the girls.

Being Trans means always feeling apart from our co-workers and society at large, hiding our true selves, playing our cards close to our chest. Never showing the best of ourselves to our loved ones and friends. Hiding the better angels of our nature.

Cracks are appearing in my male persona, my hair is longer, and I wear it differently. Can my co-workers sense anything; do they notice the lack of facial and arm hair? The weight loss, the depression? Perhaps I am paranoid but I think they suspect something they just don’t know what. I know my co-workers already consider me “different”. I guess my eventual transition (not in this job LOL) will not be a total surprise. They will be able to say, “I knew there something wrong with him (her)”.

Extra Bonus Bitch Session:
Sometimes day to day life makes all the Trans issues doubly hard to deal with, work, car problems, home repairs sigh.

Blog absence yesterday was due to some on location filming for work. Managed to find an hour last night while family was out to work on my Lincoln Continental. A little progress on the Mark IV, no more flooding carb but odd exhaust note and lumpy idle remain.

One step forward two back, the family "truckster", Chrysler Town & Country is having mysterious drive train maladies…argh. SO is taking the big white mini-van (is that an oxymoron) to the garage today for a diagnosis.

Have to do more filming on Sunday so I miss the big British car show they have here every year. Although most of my cars come from Detroit I have a soft spot for cars from the old country.

Ok bitch session over. Here is something completely different as a palate cleaner and reward for listening to me whine:

Evelyne Courtois` singing a French version of Sha La La La Lee.




Hugs,

April

The Power of Song

I didn’t come to a love of music until my late teens after most of my contemporaries had already firmly established their musical tastes and were spending lots on albums and cassettes (wow dating myself).



I was searching for a sound but commercial radio and pre-internet media was still a mainstream wasteland. It was not a until I heard an obscure track from Jerry Lee Lewis, Ubangi Stomp, better known by Warren Smith both on the SUN label. Talk about a weird song to change ones life but there you go.



The DJ came on and said that was rockabilly, I now had a name for what I loved. Now you can hear the most obscure and rarest rockabilly 45’s with the click of a mouse. Back then I searched through dusty used record stores for 45s and bought high priced European imports.



Rockabilly has a large contemporary following and has even evolved into a “lifestyle”. Back in the day (geez I sound like grandpa Simpson) it was totally below the radar and being a fan was about as popular as being trans. Please note that the above paragraph does not apply to the UK where they have had a wide spread Teddy Boy/ Rockabilly sub culture since the fifties.



No musical talent myself, my brother is a different story (a great guitarist) but I did have my own radio show at university to propagandize for my eclectic taste in music.



I use rockabilly pretty loosely, I love early country, fifties gospel, sixties garage punk, French girl groups, surf and anything that has that wild rockabilly and innocence of early rock and roll.



I mentioned in n earlier post that I have been wrestling with depression, sometimes we forget how powerful music can be to move the soul. Last weekend I was able to fight of the blues with some new rockin’ tunes. My current favorite band is the Raveonettes, here are two tracks that have raised my spirits and have been keeping me dancing around the living room for the past couple of days.



By the way, Sharin Foo the female part of this Danish duo is very pretty and shows off some great retro dresses. I also love her straight blond hair.



So do yourself a favor, break out your favorite track and dance and sing out loud you will feel better.



Hugs,



April

Random Thoughts from Suburbia

Saturday September 11th, flew Old Glory from my house. It looked so beautiful hanging there the red white and blue against the newly laid sod.

I have tried to make this a tradition; I still feel the terrible pain of that day. No one I knew died that day, one employee of the national bank I used to work for was killed. All Toronto came to a halt and the streets were filled with people trying to get home as the subways were closed.

I stayed late at my desk and left an empty business district at the end of the day to journey home to a waiting family. So many would wait in vain…

Despite being English by birth and having lived in Canada most of my life in my heart I am an American. My family’s first steps in the New World were through New York, like generations of immigrants before (but not Ellis Island which closed in 1954).

I majored in American history at university, the cars, the music I love they are all a product of the amazing democratic experiment across the 49 parallel. The freedom and liberty we enjoy would be impossible with her existence.

A bit of a manic weekend. Saturday saw a return of depression, trouble with my Lincoln Mark IV carburetor, rebuilt it but no joy. Sent me into a bit of a tail spin, will try again this evening.
Went out with my girl friend Marissa last night for coffee, drove a new Mitsubishi Evo press car. Still on such a high, it sooooo good to be out, happy with the photos too! We talked about my progress and for a minute I felt I was in the fast lane. Getting out so builds one's confidence, I wish I could do it more.

Feeling positive hope I can make it last!

My birthday today. My oldest gave me a home made card that said that my present was that she was renaming the character in her "novel" she is writing April, after me! Yes, I was very moved! Best present ever!

Hugs,

April

The Answer in Our Hearts

I was moved by Karen’s recent post on GID diagnosis and have thought a lot about my own experience. (http://shoutingdownthewell.blogspot.com/2010/09/crushed.html)

In our happy Dominion, well the province of Ontario at least the gateway to SRS is through the Center for Addiction & Mental Health. I had initially made an appointment to determine if I really was transgendered. My friend Marissa suggested that I contact CAMH, she could tell.

The waiting list was long at least six months. I was devastated when my initial appointment was cancelled and I had to wait almost another four months to see a doctor for my initial interview and diagnosis.

In retrospect the delay allowed me to make up my own mind and to confidently tell the doctors that I wanted to be a woman and that I would be able to successfully transition. A lot has been written about CAMH locally but my experience was positive.

I knew the diagnosis I wanted and was aware that I would be tempted to subconsciously spin the answers to any questions to reinforce the desired diagnosis. Yes I did get the GID diagnosis I wanted, however then they were at pains to tell me that the next steps were entirely up to me. Transition, don’t transition we don’t care. If you want to proceed change your name and go full time, come and see us again in six months…so long and thanks for all the fish.

It has been challenge, finding a new doctor, starting hormones, seeking out therapist, coming out to friends and loved ones. A difficult road but I keep moving forward because I want to.

When I first contacted CAMH I was still wracked by guilt and shame and I felt that if I had a medical diagnosis I could say, look I am not just some crazy person. The true answer is in our hearts. I spent many nights walking and thinking until I was exhausted in body and spirit. A terrible struggle that saw me go back and forth between continuing to fight the “good” fight and to “give in” to transition.

I think I always knew what the final decision would be and that in the end it is the right
one.

Thinking of you Karen.


Hugs,

April

I know the ad is hard to read but above the smoking woman it says, "Your T-Zone Will Tell You" indeed!

Daddy You Look Pretty

In my prior post I clearly demonstrated how t-girls can be whiney bitches, actually I am a bit old to be called a girl but whiney bitch still applies.

A bit of a roller coaster weekend emotionally. Saturday was really tough but I had a much better Sunday and Monday.

Significant Developments?

I had already told the children about me but they had not seen me as April. They know I am Trans and that I will eventually transition to become a woman. The oldest that is eleven going on thirty understands more and therefore has the most trouble dealing with the changes. That is not to say she hasn't been supremely understanding and caring, she just does not want to loose her dad.

On Sunday I asked the oldest if she would like to see one of my favorite photos of April. She did and was quite surprised at how I looked. The other two girls never wanting to be left out of what their older sister is doing muscled in for a quick peak.

“Daddy you look pretty” was the oldest's first response. Wow, are you sure your mother didn’t pay you to say that! I was very moved. The seven year old asked who the photos were of and did a classic sit com double take when I said me.

I got dressed up in anticipation of going out Sunday evening and the younger two saw me as 90% April, full makeup, jewelry, perfume etc, just in jeans and runners, no wig but my new feminine hair cut. I don’t think the oldest was quite ready.

Can you believe I spent all day Monday as well, mostly as April, jeans, pink t-shirt (bra), female glasses and my long painted nails. Made breakfast and lunch for the children and cleaned the house. Only a short return to drab to change the fuel pump on the Mark IV, no nails were broken just in case you were wondering.

Last night my SO had a bridal shower to go to (borrowed a pair of my pantyhose ;) Later she told me all about it and we discussed the merits of various shoes in our collection....I do miss the husband and wife connection but I love being one of the girls. I guess we are more girlfriends?

Since she was at the shower I made dinner, washed up and got the children to bed...as April, well my favorite jeans, lavender blouse, a bra for the "little" girls and an apron. Shades of Betty Draper again.

I am finding it hard to articulate exactly what I am feeling; I am comfortable being out/being April to my children ...This is a true milestone. April is starting to come into her own, taking the wheel so to speak, no longer the quiet but ever present back seat driver (heck for a while she was firmly locked in the trunk). Excited, happy yes but a little scared. The old male facade, which also had a life of his own, is fading. The male facade meant safety, acceptance and anonymity all of which will be lost. April will have to be strong and confident woman.

Hugs,

April

Black Dogs on my Trail

First of all sorry for the radio silence the last few days, a busy weekend and a holiday Monday followed by an off site meeting all day Tuesday meant no time to properly compose my thoughts.

Saturday was a complete write off; the black dogs of depression had run me down and left me pretty well mauled. I am not a very outgoing personality and had never experienced serious depression until I stated to deal with being transgendered. It has been the depression (that and all the damn cars) that drive a wedge between my SO and I, more so than even being Trans.

I am seeing a therapist and it helps immeasurably but even so the black dog can sneak up on you at any time. "Black Dog" was what Winston Churchill called his depression, a fitting image I think.

Saturday was supposed to be a milestone, my first female haircut at a beauty salon. Up early to make my 8:30 AM appointment, I was giddy with anticipation. I arrived early at the mall and impatiently waited for the salon to open. Unfortunately the recommended hairdresser’s first language was not English forcing me to explain about five times that I was Trans and wanted a female haircut. Any louder and I may as well have announced my Gender Identity Disorder over the mall's public address system! She kept giving me male hair style books to look through until I pulled out a picture of April and showed her who I really am. I think she finally understood and she did the best she could with my long for me but relatively short male hair.

To be fair she did a good job with what she had to work with and I ended up with a gender neutral haircut that will allow me to continue to grow out my natural hair. On the return home my wife was not too impressed with the styling and subconsciously I was also unhappy with the process. For a MTF the idea of a trip to the salon is a fantasized experience and mine did not live up to my high expectations. Coupled with my SO's apparent disapproval I quickly fell into depression. It is a vicious cycle, feeling bad about something as simple as a hair cut or car problems colors your thought process and soon you are questioning your ability to pass, transition or even your self worth. The more depressed I got the more my SO lost patience with me making me even sadder at angering my greatest supporter.

Depressions living dead embrace had me all the rest of the day. All I wanted to do was to lie down and feel sorry for myself. All hope and joy had gone replaced with a vast emptiness that makes ending your life seem like the right thing to do. I took the children out bike riding, went to the store but I was only going through the motions an emotional zombie.

Roller coaster emotions seem to be the lot of the Trans person. We experience such great joy and happiness when we can be ourselves and such terrible lows when we feel that opportunity is being taken away from us.

Sunday and Monday were much better and I have some good news to report but I will tell you about that tomorrow.

Tuesday was back to school for the children and back to work for me. My job can be rather thankless at times and my boss quite a handful, after a tough day I felt that the black dogs were nipping at my heels again. In the morning at the school I look around at all the moms and later in the grocery store at all the GG's and I felt that I could never be one of them, to look that good, that natural, who was I kidding. However this time I was able to shake off my phantom pursuers, perhaps I just didn't have the energy to beat up on myself anymore this week?

I forced myself to go for my nightly walk/exercise as it was a beautiful warm late summer evening. Leaving the iPod behind I strolled with my own thoughts and resolved not to give up but to press on with transition, really what choice do I have? As Winston said, “If you are going through hell, keep going”....he knew what he was talking about.

See you tomorrow,

April

An Experiment

For the MTF Trans person hair is so incredibly important. It instantly identifies you as male or female. The right wig can instantly transform.

I still have my hair so I guess I am lucky but I have a typical male hair line, tall forehead and widow’s peak. Also my hair is amazingly fine and straight. I think I will be able to grow my own hair once I transition but will still need the scalp advanced surgically to look feminine.

A busy work schedule and a favorite barber who is in another town has meant that my current hair is well beyond its male best before date. In fact it is the longest it has ever been. I guess I could have got my hair cut but subconsciously I didn’t really want to.

I usually wore it in an Elvis style duck tail having too use much gel and hair spray to keep my pin straight hair defying gravity. I have worn variations of this style for twenty years or so (ZOMG!). Occasionally getting a flat top in the summer months. Time for a change don’t you think.

The plan or experiment is to see if I can have my hair styled for a feminine look, preferably one that downplays my forehead and can be combed in a male manner for work. That is not too much to ask is it!

I have an appointment with a stylist at a beauty salon early tomorrow morning. She was recommended by a friend. I will of course have to explain the “experiment” to her and that means telling her about me. “You don’t know me but I am Trans,” should be an interesting morning.

And if it all goes south it is all back to short back and sides…

Hugs,

April

A Trans Movie?

The Corpse Bride

The 2005 film by Tim Burton really caught my attention when it was first released. I bought the DVD, the CD soundtrack and even a figurine or is it action figure of the bride (Emily).

For a few months in my pre-out days I watched the film and listened to the music over and over again. Why so obsessed? Just a romantic story with a nice gothic feel or was it something deeper.

I suspect there is something Trans about this movie but I cannot put my finger on it. I have surfed around the net to see if anyone else shared my suspicions but I have never found a review or random comment that mentions transgender themes.

The story is based on an old Jewish tale of a murdered bride awakened by inadvertent vows, recast in Victorian England, all be it an Edward Gorey / Charles Addams sort of olde England.

Film critic Roger Ebert wrote that the film is not a “macabre horror story as the title suggests” calling it a “sweet and visually lovely tale of love lost”. I could not agree more. If you have not seen The Corpse Bride, go buy or rent it right away.

Now, it should be remembered that Tim Burton is the same director who brought us the bio pic Ed Wood, the infamous grade Z mogul who made the movie Glen or Glenda or I Changed My Sex. Poor Ed had a more than passing familiarity with his subject matter in this case.

Just what strikes me as Trans, is it that the groom Victor falls in love with Emily (the eponymous bride) even though she is not a “real” woman?

Emily’s joy at life and love regained, especially evident in the beautiful scene where she dances in the moonlight reminds me of the joy I and I am sure many of you feel when we can be our true selves.

I hope that readers will be kind enough to share their own perspectives on the film. Is there a Trans theme or am I delusional?

Hugs,

April

Words Have Meaning and Names Have Power

April Ashley

I did not struggle or fret over my name, it just came to me from out of the ether of my own experience. I would say a gift from the universe if I wanted to risk sounding like some new age hippie.

I was attempting to sign up for the crossdressers.com forum, my first tentative step in reaching out to the wider trans world beyond my closet.

I needed a female name, something close to my given male name but not a feminine version of it. Suddenly….APRIL…that was it. I had been friends with an April at my old job, actually that was her last name. Great, feminine but not too cutesy, I now had my forum name.

But sometimes things like a name take on a life of their own. April was supposed to be just a place holder, an internet nom de plume. When I came out to my spouse, she asked did “she” have a name, why yes April. When I first ventured out into the real world, it was April who took that first high heeled step. When I went to get my diagnosis of GID, it was April who walked confidently into the doctors office. It is the name my new friends call me and the name I hope that old ones and family will one day embrace too.

I am becoming April and I have no regrets.

It was only later that I realized that April was the name of the first British person to have SRS. (Not sure if Roberta Cowell should also get this honor) . I am sure I must have heard her name from my days at school in the UK or stumbled upon a reference to her in my earlier pre-web surreptitious research.

Not a middle aged transitioner like myself April Ashley became a woman at age 25. She has had and continues to have an amazing life that I cannot do justice to in a mere paragraph.

Instead follow the link below to read her biography, the entire work is on line and free to read. Warning, make sure you have a couple of hours spare! Her story would make a great movie.

http://www.antijen.org/Aprilv1/

See a more recent BBC interview here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/london/hi/people_and_places/newsid_8383000/8383720.stm

“you can be who you want to be…but do it with joy…and be terribly brave.”

So retroactively I am claiming that April Ashley is my namesake, I hope she does not mind.

Hugs,

April (the other one)

The Sound of Fury

Don’t worry its just the title of Billy Fury’s first album in 1960. I am a big rockabilly fan and the more obscure the record the better. Not that Mr. Fury is obscure; he is a legend in the UK but much less well known here in North America.

I have a real soft spot for early British rock and roll and he was the best. Two tunes for your consideration, Don’t Knock Upon My Door (a rocker) and A Thousand Stars, a sappy romantic ballad, yes I can freely admit to liking those now.

In an earlier incarnation I dyed my hair blond to look more like Billy when he starred as Stormy Tempest in the movie That’ll Be the Day. You know come to think of it I do look good as a blond.

Three mini posts:

Sounds like a breakfast cereal, "mini posts the cure for the common breakfast". Blame the corny cereal jokes on the episode of Mad Men I watched last night. Did you see it? Peggy stripped and I still want to be Joan (who wouldn’t?)!

Not Quite April

Presenting as April at home is one of the steps forward that my spouse and I talked about when we were discussing telling the children. For three evenings last week after the children went to bed I have changed into casual April wear, girl jeans, blouse and bra for the slight breast development that the past five months or so on hormones have happily provided.

At first I was quite uncomfortable in this not quite April stage, no makeup, no overtly feminine clothes or high heels. Basically what any woman would wear after work, dishes and bedtime stories. I do feel more comfortable in my own skin and more relaxed but this in between stage is a little hard to look at I the mirror. I want to see the woman I am inside but the guy keeps intruding…and he is not welcome!

My hair is the longest it has ever been and if I don’t comb it back as I do in guy mode I can let my bangs fall naturally over my forehead, hiding the typically male widows peak hair line. I am seriously considering finding a stylist who will have a go at giving me a female cut that could be easily be combed from female to male. If not….back to short back and sides.

My spouse had been great and remembers most of the tome to call me April and even use female pronouns. Next step is to introduce my female wardrobe to daylight hours and the children.

Depression and Frustration

I didn’t get out this weekend and the inability to be fully April, even for a short time weighted heavily on my mind. I am better than before, a few months ago I would be super depressed. Therapy has helped deal with the depression and perhaps I can see a brief light at the end of the tunnel where I will be April all the time.

Prison of Masculinity

Part of the reason I could not get out was the male part of my life had too many demands. The Lincoln Mark IV is still on the disabled list. I pulled the fuel pump and have started to rebuild the carb as both the garage I are in agreement that the problem is fuel delivery related. I didn’t get a chance to finish the job as the shop gave me the wrong fuel pump and filter! Covered in gasoline and grease and feeling anything but feminine I needed a 45 minute shower to get all the crud off me.

No replacement could be sourced Sunday so I finally had to tackle the floor repair on my Oldsmobile Toronado. I had stripped the interior and removed all the wet sound deadening material due to a sunroof leak. Satisfied that I found and fixed the leak (oh god I hope so!) I have to strip off the surface rust on the floor, fix a small hole and repaint before the interior can go back in. I got most of the sanding and painting done last night and reinstalled the power driver’s seat….heavy. The plan is to put a top coat on the floor tonight and drive her to work Tuesday. We had a hot weekend and I was drenched in sweat and covered in metal and rust fragments by the time I was done for the evening. Time for the second long shower of the day.

Sorry, getting carried away with all the car stuff, the point is that I was rather down about having to do all these car repairs, like a guy. I love the cars but don’t really enjoy the getting dirty part anymore. The cars were feeling like a self made prison and I strongly resented the time I was spending on them. The defensive wall I had built out of cars to keep the pink fog out was now a prison forcing me to still be a man.

A rationalization of the fleet is coming. I wish I could keep the most expensive ones but they may well go to finance surgeries.

Peace and Hope

I don’t know if I consciously applied any of the techniques I have learned for fighting depression. But a long shower, shaved legs and then slipping into a soft cotton nightie and a fuzzy robe really helped. I curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and watched the latest episode of Mad Men. Simple pleasures but everything seemed a better, I felt peaceful, I felt like me and some hope returned.

Hugs,

April

Defensive Obsessions

Ok I won’t bore you with car stuff…too much….up till 2:00AM no doubt trying my neighbors’ patience.

After determining I have some sort of vacuum leak/manifold air leak, I finally had to admit defeat and resolved to call the auto club in the morning and have her flat bedded to my mechanic. It was either dust off the 59 Cadillac or borrow my mother's mini van. So feeling very down market today.

My spouse came out around mid night and told me to call it quits. I was quite down looking out at a driveway filled with a sea of Detroit iron all needing some sort of repair, costing much in dollars or time. She made a good point; my heart wasn’t really in it anymore. I hung my head in sad agreement. You know she reminded me that you used to spend three or d four hours a night out here, I would never see you. You haven’t done that in a long time….since coming out.

As you might guess I love cars and still love cars but the obsessive need to fix and restore for hours on end has fallen by the wayside. I much prefer to drive them and a quick wax now and then. I can freely admit that I used my ever growing fleet to keep me busy and my mind off the dysphoria.

A had a intense need to start another project every year or two even if the previous one was still ongoing as it kept the male me sane. Replacing one madness with another. I am sure many of you have experienced the same thing whether that girl fog dispelling obsession was exercise, work or extreme bird watching.

Cars were the biggest culprit but I was also becoming quite obsessive about politics and in the past record collecting.

As a couple, the cars were the greatest source of tension in our marriage, in some ways being Trans does not even come close. I was totally impervious to her arguments, reacting angrily to any suggestion that I sell some of them or spend less time working on them. It makes more sense now, cutting back on car time and spending risked weakening my male defenses and that was unthinkable.

I admit that a lot of my self image is still tied up with what I drive but now that I am finally being true to myself and I no longer need the constant male reinforcement an exhausting obsession can hopefully go back to being an enjoyable hobby.

hugs,

April

From the above ad:

"We invite you to visit your dealer soon- with the man of the house- and spend an hour in the passenger seat of a 1959 Cadillac"

Darn it....

My spouse says I should really post daily, well it has all been quite serious so far. Prepare for some rather more mundane updates:

Darn it...

Dentist appointment this morning to finally do away with the retainer. Dentist is late then the wire that is supposed to go behind my teeth does not fit. Have to go back next month. So running late boss calls don't make it to work until past 10:00.

My 1972 Lincoln Continental Mark IV (say in a posh voice) decides now would be a good time to start misfiring and hesitating at low RPM. Pulled over checked for loose or aged vacuum lines etc... nothing visible to the naked eye. Could be a fouled plug as choke stuck on way to dentist but a fast run to work didn't cure the problem so could be plugs, wires, points, distributor cap, rotor or coil in IMHO. ARRRGH have laser session tonight and have to run out at lunch to do errands.

My girly activity tonight, pull and inspect all plugs in the 460, regap and install. I hate when I don't know exactly what the problem is. Anyone have a pair of pink coveralls?

Good thing the pink Eldorado is getting her exhaust leak repaired today, might need another car, sometime only nine cars will do.

It is times like these I question my sanity when it comes to old cars, I mean my daily driver is pushing 40 years old!!! Sometimes a source of pride and sometimes great worry.

Hugs,

April

TELLING THE CHILDREN

Friday, threw needless distractions at me like a long day at work and a few fires to put out. Then the left rear drum stuck on my Lincoln, think it was an over adjusted shoe, you see I just had the axle seal replaced...wait wrong blog.

Finally after dinner and doing the dishes it was time to tell my eleven year old daughter. She is very sensitive, intelligent and very much the full fledged teenager already. I had written down what I wanted to say and did my best not to refer to my notes. I walked slowly to her room as it my feet were made of lead.

I told her I had something important to discuss but relax she wasn’t in trouble. I began by asking her if she knew what the term gender referred to. She did and from there I talked about how in the vast majority of people their physical gender matches who they in their head and heart. However, in some people there is a mismatch between who they are physically and who they are in the head.

At this point I could tell she was getting very upset, asking what was wrong she said that was that what she was?....oh no already making a mess of things, “No honey I am not talking about you, it is me who is one of those people”. I explained that some scientists believe that being transgendered is due to the development of the brain in the womb. I told her transgendered men and womwn struggle every day and that their gender dysphoria makes them very sad.

But we are lucky today there are medicines and surgery that allow people like me to make our bodies match our soul. This is what I would be doing, in fact I had already started. Not tomorrow but in the near future I would look different, like a woman, however I will always be your dad that I love you more than anything, that I am so proud that you are my daughter.

She started to cry, no sob, I felt my heart break into a million pieces. I wanted to run away to call her mother to comfort her but I could take the easy way out. We continued to talk, she was most upset by the thought of change and that I would look different and therefore be a different person. I assured her that inside I would always be her dad, that I still liked the same things but becoming who I always wanted to be would make me a better person and better parent. I would not be sad and angry all the time.

It sounds bad but she actually took things very well, by the end of our talk we were joking and hugging. I am so impressed by her understanding given my flawed description. Part of her sadness was imaging how difficult it was for me growing up as a boy when I knew I was really a girl, that she wanted me to finally be happy. I cannot begin the express my admiration at the depth of her understanding and empathy. I find that there are few adults who can even imagine the feeling of a Trans person, they are more concerned with how it will affect them etc.

Despite the overall positive reception I was thrown by her tears and when I went to update my SO I must have looked like I had blown it, I kind of felt that way. Pandemonium reigned upstairs as the youngest two were just finishing a bath and the youngest had managed to bloody the others nose with her elbow. My SO went to talk with the eleven year old while I got the other two to bed.

Comparing notes later we argued, she was mad I had not been prepared for the reaction I got, guilty as charged. I had thought so much about what I was going to say I didn’t take into consideration all the possible outcomes. In fact I was avoiding thinking about reactions as I didn't want to imagine the best ones and therefore be disappointed. I was angry at myself and angry at my SO for what I felt was not enough support from her on this most important day. We kept talking around each other and before I knew it the dark tentacles of depression began to steal around my heart. That old familiar feeling of not wanting to do anything enveloped me and I lay on the couch feeling sorry for myself and letting the dark thoughts flood over me. Finally my SO woke me from fitful semi consciousness at 5:00 AM and I crawled into bed.

The next morning we talked some more, she told me that our eldest actually took things very well and she was sorry she was angry, that it is hard for her too. I apologized too, time for a new page and clean start on Saturday morning.

We made pancakes together from scratch. After breakfast t I told the younger daughters, ages seven and almost four. Needless to say it went a lot easier. I doubt the four year old really understands and had seemed to have forgotten our little chat the next day. The seven year old did comprehend the potential changes and had a couple of questions, then asked if she could look at all my clothes, see my painted toe nails oh and could we go shopping. She is my little fashionista!

I want to continue to stress to the children that my transition is a joyful process for me and that we can all move forward in love.

To reinforce we are still a family we decided to take a trip to near by Niagara Falls and do all sorts of cheesy tourist things, haunted houses, mini golf and rides. We visited Ripley’s Believe It or Not (actually quite fun) played glow in the dark golf, walked down Clifton Hill to the falls, took lots of photos with all the other tourists from Japan, Germany and around the world. Later we had dinner at the Rainforest Cafe. It was pouring with rain when we left the restaurant and we made a dash back to the Chrysler Town & Country mini van. We all looked like drowned rats. Traffic was still heavy even after 10:00PM. The girls watch the first Harry Potter movie on the drive back, a family favorite. Everyone had a great time and we still have tickets for a few other attractions that we will use later. We plan to go back in September before the end of the season.

The eleven year old confessed to her mother that she was feeling a little depressed the next day. I did my best to spend the day with her; we went grocery shopping (how exciting I hear you say) picked up the latest Harry Potter movie on DVD for a movie night.

One of my SO’s biggest complaints is that I would avoid getting up the middle of the night when one of the children called as I was wearing a nightie and didn’t want them to see. No more excuses as they have seen me that way now!

I did get a chance to go out for coffee with a girl friend last night. I did not leave home dressed as it was still daylight (gosh I sound like Vampira or something) but I did tell the children where I was going and made sure I painted my nails before I left…hate doing them at the last minute all the time.

The plan is to gradually introduce April into every day family life, jeans and a top around the house slow working up to them seeing me present fully as April. Now Halloween is coming up so who knows, a witch perhaps or maybe Bellatrix Lestrange (Harry Potter fans will know of whom I speak).

So how did it go? Both good and bad but overall much better than I could have possibly hoped for. I am under no illusions that all is said and done. Difficulties can still arise; the oldest obviously doesn’t want the other children at her school finding out. Girls can be so cruel at that age.

Another giant step forward, really does anyone else’s opinion matter after ones immediate family?

Hugs,

April

A New Found Confidence

I am not quite sure where it came from. All of a sudden fear has fallen away and I am ready to tell the world that I am Trans that I want to be a woman. A year ago and even a month or two ago I would only admit that to myself. Saying that out loud to another person would have been unimaginable. Other girls talk about ones bell ringing, this is similar, like a switch has been thrown and I am now ready to take that next big step.

Don't get me wrong I am still a nervous wreck when I go out as April to somewhere new. My friends and I often frequent a local coffee shop. The staff know us and I feel totally comfortable meeting their for a little girl talk. Put me in a mall for the first time and I will be a basket case for the first forty five minutes or so. Then I can shop till I drop.

The confidence is that I am becoming April more and more even when I do not clearly present as female. I feel her presence even when I am at work in guy mode. And I welcome her "hostile" takeover. My therapist described her as ruthless but in a good way. Perhaps she is finally tired of hiding. I wrote to one friend saying that once I have told my children, almost everyone I care about will know and to paraphrase Nelson, the rest can be damned.

More importantly I am no longer filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. Those terrible twin emotions that drive Trans people to despair and their darkest thoughts. It is a confidence that I finally believe that I can do it, that I can successfully transition. I have hope again. I can now imagine the unimaginable...telling people and transition itself has become "maginable" . My SO talked about telling her parents, her sister and brother, about neighbors finding out and I found that I could take it that I wanted them to know, that I was excited and happy to let them know who I am. It is a step closer to becoming who I want to be.

Therapy has allowed me to better accept myself and now I can share April with those I love and eventually the world. Becoming April is not a bad thing it is not shameful or a cause for guilt it is a JOYOUS thing, it is a transformation full of LOVE and HOPE.

It is this weekend we plan to tell the children. I am scared; I do not want to hurt them. I have though a lot about what I will say and how to say it but most importantly I need to let them feel that joy and the love and hope that is in my heart. I will be a better person and a better parent.

Ok, I hope this didn't come across as too Pollyannaish, I have no misconceptions about the difficulties on the road ahead, but I have tank full of hope and a pretty good idea where I am going. ...now where is that on ramp?

An indulgence, spare me a thought this weekend and if inclined say a prayer for my family.

Hugs,

April

Greetings From No Man's Land

Clever first post title no?

This first post does not represent the start of my journey, that has been on going for about two years when I first came out to my SO. I came out as a cross dresser after experiencing a terrible bout of depression and thoughts of suicide.

When I told her she asked me, “do you want to be a woman”, No I emphatically replied, I am not one of those people. After the words left my mouth I knew I had lied, I had no intention of deceiving her but I still could not admit what I truly desired to even myself.

Within less than six months I knew I wanted to transition. I had started going out dressed with supportive friends. I hated to change back to my male self. I would stay out late as I dared I would wear nightgowns every time I could. Appointments were made to see a gender clinic and plans to attend SCC in Atlanta were made. All the male underwear disappeared from my draw. Female clothes started to take over my side of the closet. After a while and despite my weak denials to the contrary she stated, “if you didn't have to go to work you would be April all the time!” Yes I admitted. Finally the truth was out and I could admit it to her and myself, I wanted to become a woman, the woman I ALWAYS wanted to be, the woman I should have been from the beginning.

I will transition.

It has taken a long time but I was able to find a supportive doctor and am now on hormones. I am seeing a therapist to help with depression and all the emotions surrounding transition.

My mother knows, my brother knows, one of my wife’s best friends is in on the secret. But nothing has really changed yet. I am still a middle aged man for all intents and purposes. I look a little thinner, my hair is a little longer and I won't wear tight t-shirts anymore but I still work at the same company, still enjoy my male hobbies. To the outside world we are a model nuclear family with slightly over the 2.5 children. But the man I was is disappearing; he continues to fight back but to no avail. I am in No Man’s Land.

The relationship with my spouse has changed, we are still together but more like girlfriend/co-parents/an amicably divorced pair still living together? I am eternally grateful to her as she has been supportive despite her personal world being turned upside down. I don’t know if I would be so forgiving or understanding if the shoe was on the other foot. She sees me being Trans as not a selfish life style choice but the I was from birth, something I cannot help. She truly does want me to be happy.

At some point in the transition process separation will be inevitable. As much as I would be more than happy to remain together she would rather have a man and a husband than a best friend. She has not tried to 'fix" me so I cannot possibly try and convince her a Sapphic relationship would be best for us. Still it takes some time to get used to the idea that one day we will not be a couple, we have only been together forever and have never been with anyone else. When that day comes it will be a sad one.

It is not all doom and gloom she still manages to tease me about both of us looking for the same kind of man in her next and my first husband. That I had better keep practicing my cooking so that I will make a good wife. Or perhaps you and “so and so” would make a good couple.

No Man's Land is also meant to symbolize a kind of empty space between the two genders, things could go either way with only a slight push and nothing is written in stone. The next big step is coming up telling the children and in turn my wife’s parents and immediate family. From there, there will be no turning back.

I am ready to leave No Man's Land and start on the road to womanhood with my foot to the floor...lets hope the road is actually a freeway.

Hugs,

April

PS. Like the header illustration, it is from the 1960 Cadillac brochure. I love her expression.