Disowned, the Story Continues, Oddly Enough

Surprisingly, I find that my Daughter in Law is apparently aspiring to become my cyber stalker. For someone who made it clear to Patty a little over 24 hours ago that she wants nothing more to do with us, she was on the phone again bright and early at 8 am this morning to continue to harass Patty over what I had published here less than 8 hours before that about her uninvited verbal attack on us.

She told Patty that what I had written was a "pack of lies", but Patty who then read my blog after the phone call found nothing I had written to be untrue.

If I were dead to her and did not exist as she informed Patty yesterday, one would think she would have better things to do with her time than obsess over anything I might write about.

Perhaps it has something to do with her failed attempt to turn Patty's daughter against us. She seemed to have a need to call her to tell her all about this but my stepdaughter's response was that if her mother and I were happy together then it was no concern of hers.
Considering how she attacked my stepdaughter's husband two years ago, calling her was a rather pathetic move on her part. Her behavior is becoming rather laughable! Quite a change for Patty and me in less than 24 hours.

I thank God my prayers to Him asking him to bind her from harming Patty and me have been answered! Once again, it has been proven in a powerful way that God always answers prayer.

Patty and I were discussing these developments this evening after I came home. We began thinking about what she would do if one of her children came to her and told her that they were transsexual. Given that no one asks to be transsexual because of the hatred and disgust people like my daughter in law harbor towards us, we wondered if she would tell them they too were vile, disgusting and perverted as she thinks about me and about Patty whose only transgression is to love me? For my grandchildren's sake, I pray this does not come to pass. It is sad to know that so many transsexual young people are thrown away by their families like garbage. She seems to be someone who is capable of being that way in my opinion.

It also gives me pause to worry that as a health care provider, would her bigoted and hateful attitudes translate into abusive or neglectful care of a transsexual patient if someone like me would be unfortunate enough to be placed under her care. It is highly likely she will encounter a number of patients like me before her career is over and she retires. I know I would be fearful to have someone with her attitudes responsible for my care.

It is both my and Patty's wishes that she do what she said she would do last night; leave us alone and stop bothering us. Enough said.

Disowned

In the span of a little over an hour, my life took another radical change again. At first, I thought it had taken a serious turn for the worse. It felt catastrophic and I wanted to vomit. Then I felt empty and could not put any words together. I wanted to die, but I had no urge to kill myself. I was not suicidal. I just wondered why my life goes on and why can’t it just be over. I had no answers for those questions, but that all turned around in a rather short period of time as you will see.

What happened was that shortly after I got home from work, my daughter in law called to tell Patty that they (she and my stepson) knew the truth about me and what a pervert I was. She went on to tell her that she was vile and disgusting and that as far as she was concerned that we were dead to them and she would tell our grandchildren that we do not exist. She also said that she would also call Patty’s other two children to inform them so that they would be sure to disown us as well. Poor Patty endured this venomous spew from this unlovely person and never returned an angry word.

Patty, of course, is devastated. We had agreed that I would not present myself to them as I truly am out of consideration for Patty’s feelings. It was a small sacrifice to me for someone I love, as we were pretty sure of this type of reaction as my daughter in law has been a very destructive force in the family dynamics on so many levels over the years. She has ensured that her husband is alienated from his brother and has created major problems in the family relationships with her husband’s sister’s husband, his brother in law, our son in law. Now, when we try to arrange a family get together, our son in law will not attend. Once in awhile, my step daughter attends and I have tried to avoid these occasions because I know my daughter in law doesn't want me around. Patty has sensed the same thing over the years. We are never asked to spend any time with our grandchildren except when my daughter in law is present. We have never been asked to babysit and have never spent any time with them unless she ensures she is present. This is true even if I weren't involved. My daughter in law has always excluded my wife from spending time alone with the grandchildren, unlike the access she has allowed her family.

It seems though in the aftermath of this, it has become a very freeing experience for me. It was a painful sort of rebirth of which I have experienced many such along my journey.

I am free of having to pretend that I feel accepted and a part of Patty’s family. I have almost always felt like an unwelcome outsider, particularly by my daughter in law over the years. That was going on way before my daughter in law’s discovery about me today. Now I will never see them or interact with them again. My daughter in law, once again has shown us her black heart.

However, the pain that my truth causes Patty once again, just by my truth of being me becoming known to others, is heartbreaking for me. I don’t know how I can ever make up to her that her choice to remain in a relationship with me cost her relationship with at least one and maybe all of her children. It may not be possible to do that at all.

In two days we leave to go on a vacation we have both been looking forward to a long time to a place we both enjoy when we visit. I’m not sure either one of us cares at this minute about that vacation any longer. Hopefully though, this will be an opportunity to become even closer through experiencing the unreasoning and ignorant hatred of my daughter in law. I hope we will just forget about this over the next week and focus on us having fun and relaxing together.

What is positive from this horrible experience is that I feel no need to retaliate in kind, though I have first hand knowledge of things my daughter in law has done that would jeopardize her professional career and reputation, due to the same destructive need to maliciously gossip about people.

Her treatment towards my wife shows her to be a low and common person, someone who enjoys inflicting pain on others and she lacks the courage of her convictions to say them to my face over the phone.

However, they failed to recreate the feelings of guilt and shame that are common to people who grow up knowing they are transsexual. This is a reflection of the hard work and growth that I have accomplished in self-acceptance.

My God requires that I forgive her and I have made a lot of progress this evening towards that goal.  In this sense, it is a purely selfish act. It is only for me and not meant to benefit her in any real way. It allows me to feel the full grace of peace and love that God has for me. I bind her from doing emotional harm, something she seems to crave the need to do to others, as evidenced by the many examples over the time I have known her. My most sincere wish is that she is also bound from harming Patty in the same way. I simply won’t think of her in the future.

What I Did For Football, What Football Did to Me

I want to be absolutely clear that the intent of this article is NOT to malign the sport of football, which one might infer from the title. To the contrary, I continue to enjoy watching football to this day and I believe that my prior participation in the game helped me to build the internal strength and courage to successfully face my gender identity issues and finally be able to live an authentic life, despite the consequences I endured from playing the game.

I was 12 years old when I stepped onto the field to play real football with the big boys. I would be entering the 7^th grade that fall, but the rest of the boys who came out for summer practice were mostly 16 and older and no one else was younger than 15. They were for the most part four to six years older than me. We called summer practice “Captain’s Practice” and it began the last week of June for four weeks. We were to get into shape to begin organized practice that began in the last week of July and went on until school started the first week of September and the season began the first Saturday in September.

The Junior Varsity team would not form up until the school started and played their first game in late September. I couldn’t afford to wait that long to begin playing football because I had something to prove. I had to prove it to everyone else but more importantly I had to try to prove a lie to myself about who I really was. In all truth, back then, I secretly wanted to one of the cheerleaders rather than be a football player, but I knew that could never be.

Why else would someone who was outweighed by anywhere from 40 to well over 100 pounds subject themselves to full contact football? The other question that came much later in life, was what kind of judgment were the adults who ran this particular program exercising to allow someone so much younger and so much smaller to engage at this level of competition with the high probability of injuries which were inevitable in this situation?

However, ultimately, the person who decided to do this was me. The more important question is why would I engage in such a foolish and dangerous activity? That is a question that can only to be answered by me. Simply put, it was because I had something to try to convince myself of that was not true. It was something that was not true to convince everyone else who had no idea what it was I was trying to prove, because I was unwilling to face my own truth.

As I’ve written about earlier, I knew I was not a boy and was really a girl, no matter what my biological reality was when I had the language to identify it. That was around age 6. I also knew the word for people like me at that time, but this, the summer of my twelfth year, was also the summer that I began to read the professional books about transsexuals and learn more specific information about myself. What I read terrified me because I was reading about my truth and my reality. These learned professionals were describing me in detail and they had no way of knowing me. Yet they were writing about me in such accurate detail that it was truly terrifying.  I in no way wanted to be one of those people who I was reading about. Yet I could not keep from going back over and over again to read everything there was about people like me. I had to know the truth even if I was a long way from being able to accept that truth and was very desperate to prove to myself and to those that I imagined could see who I truly was, that I was not like those people I read about.

Really, it was far easier to go out every day and endure the extreme physical punishment I experienced every time I played with the others than to face up to and accept the reality of who I was. The older boys seemed to relish every opportunity to hit me as hard as they could since they couldn’t deliver the same degree of physical punishment to boys their own age and size. The coaches seemed to also relish matching me up against the oldest and biggest team members as well. After all, isn’t that what someone like me deserved for being such an abomination? Perhaps I was hoping they would literally beat the transsexualism out of me. Looking back, I realize what a sad mindset that was for a young child.

It’s really no surprise that the first year playing with them that I broke my nose, had a very painful tailbone injury and in hindsight I recognize that I suffered at least three concussions of one degree or another. Eventually, I had to have cervical spinal surgery due to injuries sustained from helmet to helmet hits which were legal at the time. These are particularly dangerous on kickoffs and kickoff returns.

A culture of hazing existed as well, fostered by tradition and encouraged by the adults who ran our program. Instead of garnering respect for what I did, something that I had desperately hoped for, something that no one my age did until we were all 15 and then only two other classmates (in my third year of playing), participated in, I was the subject of physical, emotional and eventually on one isolated occasion the victim of sexual abuse. Because of the emotional abuse and that one incident of sexual abuse I became convinced that they knew my secret, but in hindsight, I know this not to be true. They were simply abusive and probably were acting out many things that had been perpetrated upon them coming up through the same system. The difference between me and them were that some of them were gifted athletes and I was not. They did not , however, to my present degree of knowledge, harbor a secret that caused them tremendous guilt and shame. I did.

What I was able to accomplish was accomplished through my sheer willpower and determination. I was the only one in my class to play football 6 seasons at my school. I was the only one to earn 4 varsity letters in football and three Junior Varsity letters. I was the only one to start offense and defense during my Sophomore, Junior and Senior seasons and I set two school records at the time in my Senior year for fumble recoveries in a game and in a season. Not being a skill player, I accomplished these things as an undersized offensive and defensive lineman. I accomplished this through having learned to take heavy physical punishment and doling out my own when the opportunity presented itself.  I earned my accomplishments through willpower and desire, not through any athletic talent because I am not talented athletically.

Over the years between that first year and my last season, I had probably suffered 4 or 5 more concussions. Nobody paid attention to that back then and hitting each other helmet to helmet was expected. I injured a shoulder, a knee, broke a finger, and one year experienced such severe staph infections all over my body that they nearly resulted in my hospitalization because I hid the extent of them until the season ended and I missed the next two weeks of school because I was too sick to attend after the season was over. Years later I required surgery to fuse my cervical spine as a consequence of way too many helmet to helmet hits, particularly on kickoffs and kickoff returns. That sort of dangerous contact was legal back then.

Really, it was far easier to go out every day and endure the extreme physical punishment I experienced every time I played with the others than to face up to and accept the reality of who I was. The older boys seemed to relish every opportunity to hit me as hard as they could since they couldn’t deliver the same degree of physical punishment to boys their own age and size. The coaches seemed to also relish matching me up against the oldest and biggest team members as well. After all, isn’t that what someone like me deserved for being such an abomination? Perhaps I was hoping they would literally beat the transsexualism out of me. Looking back, I realize what a sad mindset that was for a young child.

It’s really no surprise that the first year playing with them that I broke my nose, had a very painful tailbone injury and in hindsight I recognize that I suffered at least three concussions of one degree or another.

A culture of hazing existed as well, fostered by tradition and encouraged by the adults who ran our program. Instead of garnering respect for what I did, something that I had desperately hoped for, something that no one my age did until we were all 15 and then only two other classmates (in my third year of playing), participated in, I was the subject of physical, emotional and eventually on one isolated occasion the victim of sexual abuse. Because of the emotional abuse and that one incident of sexual abuse I became convinced that they knew my secret, but in hindsight, I know this not to be true. They were simply abusive and probably were acting out many things that had been perpetrated upon them coming up through the same system. The difference between me and them were that some of them were gifted athletes and I was not. They did not harbor a secret that caused them tremendous guilt and shame. I did.

What I was able to accomplish was accomplished through my sheer willpower and determination. I was the only one in my class to play football 6 seasons at my school. I was the only one to earn 4 varsity letters in football and three Junior Varsity letters. I was the only one to start offense and defense during my Sophomore, Junior and Senior seasons and I set two school records at the time in my Senior year for fumble recoveries in a game and in a season. Not being a skill player, I accomplished these things as an undersized offensive and defensive lineman. I accomplished this through having learned to take heavy physical punishment and doling out my own when the opportunity presented itself.  

Over the years between that first year and my last season, I had probably suffered 4 or 5 more concussions. Nobody paid attention to that back then and hitting each other helmet to helmet was expected. I injured a shoulder, a knee, broke a finger, and one year experienced such severe staph infections all over my body that they nearly resulted in my hospitalization because I hid the extent of them until the season ended and I missed the next two weeks of school because I was too sick to attend after the season was over.

Over these six years, I continued to read every professional book that came out on transsexualism. By the time I was in my last season of playing I had lost the enthusiasm for trying to hide by playing football. I didn’t show up for summer practice, preferring to work at my job at the hospital as a nursing aide. I questioned why I bothered playing at all at that point. I simply didn’t care. It was clear to me that I was not like the others

either at the most fundamental level. Football is a game for men and I was never a man. I was a woman. I just couldn’t accept that fact at that time, though I knew it to be true. The only reason I continued to play was to finish what I started. I knew I didn’t have the talent or physical size to play at the collegiate level, though I tried to convince myself otherwise and spoke with several Division III coaches of schools I was considering attending. None of them encouraged me.

Looking back, I am glad that I had the experience of playing football and enduring what I did. I learned to take beating after beating. Sometimes I wonder how I got back up each time after each one, but I know that learning to endure and survive that experience year after year gave me the internal strength and fortitude to be able to finally come to terms with myself and go through a gender transition. Not many people who grew up in the times that I did have been able to do that. Gender transition is probably one of the hardest human experiences one can undergo. Many of the things I learned about myself back then and the willingness to endure what I willingly endured gave me the strength to do what I had to do to live my life authentically. The tolerance to pain, both physical and emotional in nature gave me the courage and emotional resiliency to undergo my gender transition. I paid it forward. It was worth the price.

on my team. I could never be. It wasn’t my fault, and it wasn’t really their fault

either at the most fundamental level. Football is a game for men and I was never a man. I was a woman. I just couldn’t accept that fact at that time, though I knew it to be true. The only reason I continued to play was to finish what I started. I knew I didn’t have the talent or physical size to play at the collegiate level, though I tried to convince myself otherwise and spoke with several Division III coaches of schools I was considering attending. None of them encouraged me. This time I decided to listen.

Looking back, I am glad that I had the experience of playing football and enduring what I did. I learned to take beating after beating. Sometimes I wonder how I got back up each time after each one, but I know that learning to endure and survive that experience year after year gave me the internal strength and fortitude to be able to finally come to terms with myself and go through a gender transition. Not many people who grew up in the times that I did have been able to do that. Gender transition is probably one of the hardest human experiences one can undergo. Many of the things I learned about myself back then and the willingness to endure what I willingly endured gave me the strength to do what I had to do to live my life authentically. The tolerance to pain, both physical and emotional in nature gave me the courage and emotional resiliency to undergo my gender transition. I paid it forward. It was worth the price.

Remembering Gianna Israel

Did you know Gianna Israel? She was one of the most remarkable women I've ever met. I met Gianna before she met me, reading her columns in Transgender Tapestry. What she was writing about us and our lives was better than anything else I was reading about overcoming our struggles and how to overcome them, keep the people we love in our lives and to be happier in our affirmed gender.

I sent her an email and to my surprise and joy, she answered back. This was in 1996. I never think that people who have accomplished so much will have time to spend on me. I'm always wrong about that. Happens every time. Now, in some ways that is a pretty sad comment on how I feel about myself at times, but on the other hand, imagine how happy I am when someone of her stature writes back to me and even better, we become friends! That's the part I mainly end up thinking about.

Gianna and I wrote back and forth, then we started calling each other on the phone from time to time. I'll always remember her wonderfully hilarious sense of humor; once she had been complaining to me about her little dog, a Yorkie, for a while. Her dog was lavishing her affections on her roommate and ignoring Gianna, much to her disgust. She used to refer to that dog as "that farm animal" and was always talking about getting rid of it and getting another dog. I about rolled on the floor laughing the first time she called her a farm animal, and after that I always had to get updates on the farm animal!

 One day she sent me a picture of the dog over the internet labeled "farm animal. jpg. When I opened it, there was this little dog sitting on the roasting pan in the oven surrounded by potatoes, onions and carrots looking at the camera with her little bright eyes and a doggie smile on her face! I just about died laughing and still laugh when I think about it today.
Another time I had been complaining about how long it took to shave my legs and body. She said she had something that really helped her speed up the process and sent me this picture of a disposable razor with three heads! She was just about the funniest woman I ever met.

As our friendship grew, we would call each other once or twice a month between our emails and I would call upon her to consult with me on my transgender patients when I had just started working with others, or just for some nice girl talk.

As a professional courtesy, she did my evaluation for HRT, but I didn't use it until 2006 due to my own fear and indecisiveness about whether to transition or not. I kept the letter all these years and used it for the doctor I was going to see originally, who I have been referring to over the past 15 years. I have that letter in my scrap book I am making and I cherish it.

What was the most interesting thing about Gianna, was that even though she had been a throw away transsexual street kid and never even earned her G.E.D., she was highly self educated and was one of the best gender scholars I have ever known. She wrote and edited the book Transgender Care as the principle author with Donald Tarver M.D. The book discusses in depth how to provide quality comprehensive services for transsexuals and proposed revisions and additional recommendations that informed the American Psychiatric Association and the World Professional Association of Transgender Health of which she was a member, (At the time of the publication of her book, this organization was still known as The Harry Benjamin Gender Dysphoria Association) on revisions to enhance the quality of lives for people uncomfortable with their assigned birth gender.

But what I admired most about Gianna was that she had the most remarkably kind attitude and love for life despite having been thrown out on the streets as a very young teenager, having to cope with a seizure disorder and was suffering from AIDS. She eventually succumbed to neurological complications while writing and editing another book on treating transgendered people that I was supposed to write a chapter for on family preservation.

When we lost Gianna on February 22nd, 2004, we lost a bright shining light of love and hope in our community. In my own little way, to honor her presence in my life and that I may never forget how much she meant to me as a friend, I still keep her name and phone number on my cell phone as it gives me a reminder of who she was and of our friendship.

Rules for the Road (How To Be Happier in Life and Have More Friends)

After having read several blogs this week that provoked much spirited conversation and a really good conversation with a blog writer, this morning I came up with some rules for the road in life. I think if I will apply them to myself I will be a happier person and perhaps just a little more persuasive when I post an opinion blog (versus a personal triumph or agony blog).
1. Celebrate Diversity: All Diversity I want mine celebrated too. It's better to give than to receive but receiving feels pretty good too. So if I want mine to be respected and included, it would be best that I be mindful of others' views and beliefs. Don't have to agree or like them, but be respectful.
2. Be Tolerant: Remember this mathmatical representation: I/E (read "I over E") When I choose intellect over emotion in discussing my beliefs that oppose someone else's. This allows me to have an exchange with someone and probably learn something I might not have considered.
3.Don't Deliberately Provoke People: I don't need to go in for the kill when I see someone's sensitivity on any issue or opinion.
4. Be thoughtful: If I make a statement, I need to be able to back it up with some research. I'm always embarrased when I come out with a strong opinion when I later find out I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I think I would rather shut up and look ignorant than be proved to be ignorant.
5. Be Friendly: Even if someone is expressing some idea or philosophical belief that absolutely makes me want to gag, I'm going to try to find something I like about that person.
6. Be Sensitive; I don't know what private or not so private hells someone else went through and unless I've had a conversation about where I've been in my life with someone they don't know the private and not so private hells that I have been through.
7. Be Prompt in saying I'm sorry: Really. I need to do this when I hurt some one's feelings or unintentionally make them angry and as soon as possible, be it privately or publicly.
8. Be Gracious: Forgive and forget. This one can be just for me and no one else. I can be selfish about this. When I forgive, whether the other person tells me they are sorry or not, I feel better, I am not carrying a resentment that only makes me feel emotionally hung over.
9. Be Kind: Reach out to someone when I see them hurting, whether I like them very much or not at all. Even if I can't do anything else, I can at least listen which sometimes is the best thing to do. I also don't have to come up with a solution. Sometimes one just needs to vent their pain/ frustration.
10. Post This Where I Can See It: I think I probably should review this once or twice a week, if not every day. I can be forgetful of my own values at times.

The Wisdom of Fritz Perls

I do my thing and you do your thing.
 I am not in the world to live up to your expectations.
You are not in the world to live up to my expectations.
You are you and I am I
And If by chance we happen to find each other, it's beautiful.
And if not, it can't be helped.
- Fritz Perls

The most well known icon of gestalt psychotherapy, not to be confused with gestalt psychology wrote this years ago and I find it as powerful when I was 17 as I do today at 53. What a powerful and freeing idea.
 If you find synergy with someone, then that is a very positive and a true opportunity for personal growth. If not, that's ok too. Be free to be who you are as I will do the same. Doesn't matter if you agree with someone or not, go your own path and allow others to do the same. It would cut down so many barriers as opposed to authortarian collectivists who demand that we all march to a single drummer and if you are out of step, it is not acceptable.
 Diversity includes accepting ideas that we find diametrically opposed to our own belief system. That requires a large leap for a significant minority of us. I endeavor to be able to do that. I haven't done it perfectly, but it is my goal. I hope you will join me and doing what you can to make it yours too.