See the World From Both Sides Now

What is there to say?  I am in tears.  My longtime readers will remember my tragic experiences of coming out and attempting to transition with my previous employer.  And what you read about my experiences was greatly summarized and diluted, because at the time; I was in fear of losing my job.  Yes, my previous employer monitored my personal life with the specific intent of finding cause to terminate me.  I would not be surprised if they are still monitoring me just out of the spiteful shrewish nature of the people who were tasked with “handling” me.  All I can say to you if you are still out there is: hi… hope you’re having a great life.  Boy, you sure taught me a lesson!

My previous employer, among other things, compelled me to provide all of the logistics of how to manage my transition (as I was the expert – I have reason to believe the people who laid out that expectation never even opened my painstakingly prepared “plan”).  I was asked how I would dress, what restrooms I expected to use, how my employer was supposed to handle it “when” other people in the office had a problem with me and “if” they decided to benevolently support my transition.  In short, I was asked to defend my right to have a job.  I was “asked” to segregate myself from all external contact with fellow employees; I had to remove people from my “friends lists” on all of my personal social network accounts.  I even had to relocate this blog (I was actually “asked” to stop writing, if you can believe that).  Of course, it took very little time for my “handlers” to figure out that I had just moved elsewhere, but there was little they could do as I had obeyed “the letter of the law.”  Still, I knew they were watching.

Given everything that happened (and this is not even including the changes in day to day relationships), it should be pretty obvious just how litigious of a person I am not.  The truth is, as is probably true of most women like me, I just wanted to be able to live my life in harmony with how I felt inside.  I had no interest in stirring the pot, in making a federal case, or of pushing the boundaries of gender law.  I just wanted to live.  So, I quit.  I started with a new company barely three weeks later (I am not stupid) for the same salary, better benefits, and far less responsibility.  And I repeat… boy, they sure taught me a lesson.

Fast forward six or so months to present day.  I told my boss a few weeks ago why he was giving me vacation at the beginning of September.  If you have been living under a rock for the last six months, you may not know that I just completed FFS and a few other procedures to facilitate my transition.  I told him that I was transitioning to female, that everywhere outside of work, I had been living as Kate for a very long time, and that the surgery I was about to have would make permanent my transition.  His response?  He started walking through the things we would need to take care of – changing my email account, my badge, my name plate, etc.  His one comment was that “if you’ve managed to perform like you have so far while going through all of that, it has nothing but good things to suggest about your future.  I have only ever known one you, and I support you 100%.”

Two days later, I met with HR.  I had only met this woman one time before.  Upon entering her office, the first thing she said was “I have never dealt with anything like this before.  You are a first for me.”  I heard a similar statement from my previous “HR” rep right before being raked over the coals for several weeks.  But what she said next set the tone for everything that has happened since: “But I have been doing a little research.”  She proceeded to ask me how my name would be spelled, whether I knew when the legal changes would be final, and what she could do to help me.  She stated her plan, asked if I could review the communications she was putting together to make sure I was comfortable with them, and proceeded to engage in an entirely cordial conversation about a whole slew of completely other things.  I was never asked what I would wear or what restroom I would be using.  

The communication she sent to our executive team, which was then cascaded throughout the organization, stated in very plain terms what was happening, what was expected of everyone (that I would be treated with respect, that correct names and pronouns would be used in reference to me, and that I would be using the appropriate facilities for my gender, etc.).  With the exception of my employee records (which understandably cannot be changed until the legal changes occur), the company actually updated everything from my email address to the nameplate on my office with my correct name.  All this happened while I was off lying around in Mexico.

I returned to work today.  You will not believe what happened.  As I entered the building, I passed a coworker.  She looked at me, smiling, and said… “Good morning.”  A short time later, I passed another colleague as I walked to my office.  Readers, you will not believe what he said.  He said… “Good morning,” and then proceeded to talk about operations with me for a few seconds.  I next passed one of the most religious people I have met there, and what she said to me was… it was just… um well… you be the judge.  She said “Good morning.”  Before I made it to my desk, I passed her a second time.  We laughed at the coincidence.  

What followed over the next two or so hours was a string of coworkers and office neighbors stopping by to welcome me back and to chat about my surgery, or to catch me up on what happened while I was out.  I heard everything from, “Wow, you look great,” to “How did it go?”  And regarding emails received bearing my new account name; you will not believe the responses I got.  I heard everything from… a response to my email, to… a “welcome back” and response to my email.  The horror!

Two of our directors in sales stopped by my desk to welcome me back… what nerve!  One even had the audacity to suggest I should take it easy and not overdo it so soon after surgery.  Can you imagine?

My boss sent me an email.  It said, “Welcome back.”  And that HR person: she sent me two notes today.  She actually had the gall to ask how I was doing and to echo the director’s admonition not to over exert myself.  Unbelievable.

I was stopped by security on my way out.  She wanted to tell me how proud she was for me, and what an awesome thing I was doing.  Can you believe that?

Seriously, I could not be more touched or more impressed by my company and its people.  One might almost think they value people and understand what is truly important in a business… results.

To my former employer: Boy, you sure taught me a lesson!

And those tears?  They are tears of joy.

Happy Monday, Friends!  Next time, I will fill you in on the surgery experience.

Peace and hippy talk,

Kate

Not In A Shy Way - The Way Is Mine

How did I get here?  How did I ever make it to this point in my life?  Just two nights from tonight, I will be lying in a hospital bed thinking ahead to the morning.  I will be facing the biggest step I have ever taken toward living my own truth.  There are so many thoughts flowing through my mind tonight, so many dreams, so many feelings looking for expression; and I am not sure how to put any of them into words.

As I have reflected over the last few days on the events that have led to this summit, I cannot help to think about the people who have been a part of the journey.  I am so, so blessed.  Making this pilgrimage is a nearly impossible undertaking; indeed, without the support of many wonderful people, I could never have hoped to make it this far.  I used to wish that I could have made the change sooner; that I never would have had to live in the prison of myself.  I used to lament my past.

As I looked this weekend at all of the people I love so much, I realized just how misguided those thoughts were.  I worship every moment of the life I have lived.  I relish every experience I have enjoyed, encountered, and endured (well, not the electrolysis.  I’m sorry Heidi, but that just plain sucks); because it was through each of those moments that I found each of you.

Trudi, Lisa, Kim, Tambra, Jen, J.T., Angela, Donna, Parker, Dee, Tawana, Tara, Sam, Henry, Paul, Jase, Michael; you are more than friends.  You have been the family I needed, and I hope we will always be together and always be family and always be friends.  Your support has been the bedrock of my / our transition and the source of great joy.  If one day, I can be there for you in even close to the capacity you all have been there for me; I will count myself lucky.  And Trudi and LIsa: I would be remiss if I did not add a special thank you to you two for being who you are, for allowing all of us space in your hearts and in your home.  Together, you are godfather and mother hen to us all... I won't tell who is whom. :)

Kendra, Jessica, Julie; what can I write that could ever express how important you are to me?  Julie, you have been a great friend, and your support has meant the world.  Kendra and Jessica, you girls are my everything.  I want you to know that no matter what may happen, no matter where we all go; you will always be my daughters, and you will always be first in my heart.  You have given me so much, and I look forward to you both growing into confident and happy women who get everything from life that you truly want and deserve.  I love you both so much.

And most importantly, Jamie: I would never have believed that one person could be so much to me.  You have stood strong and have unflinchingly believed in me and believed in our future, even when I had given up.  You held me up when all I thought I wanted was to lie down.  You were my footprints in the sand.  You have carried me when I could not or would not carry myself.  You belligerently showed me hope when all I saw was gray sky.  If we live another thousand years, I can never be all the things you have been to me in just a few.  But for as long as we live from this day forward, I will be living for you… for us.  It was not my strength that got us here; it was yours.  I love you.  And I will keep on loving you forever and ever on.

We are two days from history.  We are two days from a new chapter – the next great installment.  I will not hope to hurry those days away.  Life has taught me that every day is a day to celebrate, and a memory to be made.  And how lucky am I to have already amassed such amazing reflections?  And how lucky am I to have such a wonderful and loving group of friends and family with whom to share an entirely new set of memories?

And boobs... an entirely new set of boobs.

I would like to thank the academy... and to my manager and producers...

See you all on the other side!

Peace and chopsticks,

Katherine Lynn DeLong

Six Times Three Makes Female Me

Or something like that.

Hello friends.  No big speeches tonight, no soap box, no rousing battle cries, not even a specific opinion about anything: that leaves me very little to discuss I am afraid.

I wanted only to share that I am just eighteen days away from the single most significant event to date in my transition (get it... six times three? I knew you would).  In sixteen days, I am getting on a plane with my partner and flying to Mexico.  In eighteen days, I will undergo several surgical procedures, stopping just short of "the big one," that will affect a permanent shift from male to female.  In about twenty five days, I will return to the United States (I hope) in an entirely new form... a bruised and battered form, no doubt; but a form that will be more closely me than any I have ever before embodied.  The thought brings tears to my eyes (or is that the fan blowing in my face?).

This is the last house Kyle will ever live in.  This is the last job Kyle will ever have. It is the last time I will ever look in the mirror and be reminded, even if only for a moment, that things are not completely right (well... we'll overlook that one, little thing).  When I step onto that plane, it will be the last time Kyle will ever stand on U.S. soil.  

When I finally get my college diploma (twenty years late... shut up), the name of that graduate - of that soon to be psychologist (or environmental activist, or art critic... the jury is still out) will be Katherine Lynn DeLong.  The next time I buy a house - or rent a mobile home, I guess I cannot get too far ahead of myself - Katherine Lynn DeLong will sign the mortgage agreement.  The next time I buy a car, Katherine Lynn DeLong will sign the loan papers.  The next time I send a Christmas card, it will legally be signed by Katherine Lynn DeLong.  Okay, that would be the first time I have sent a Christmas card, but you know what?  This year, I just might.

Wow.  43.7 years.  43.7 years in the wrong body.  In the U.S., the average prisoner serving a life sentence spends only 29 years in jail.  I have more than served my time.  I think I deserve a little happiness.  I think we all deserve a little happiness, and maybe, just maybe a little peace as well.

I love you all, 

Good night.

Kat Girl

Trans-Vacational Paradox

Fair warning: I just completed and submitted a ten page English Lit paper, so there is no foretelling the outcome of this post.  I am beyond loopy.


We just returned from a pseudo-family vacation trip to Branson, Missouri, the (as I have dubbed it) Knock-Off Capital of the Midwest.  It was not an entirely bad trip.  But pack two women, a precocious ten (going on twenty seven) year old girl, and a behaviorally challenged puberty riddled fourteen year old boy into a single hotel room for several days, and you may just unlock the mystery behind the disappearance of the Mayan empire.  You at least have the basis of an excellent murder mystery novel, but we will avoid those stories for today.  I would mention that if you ever need to feel humble, try spending an extended period of time in close proximity to someone who’s only predictable trait is that he will consistently do exactly what you tell him not to do.  That will knock you down a peg or two (and convince you that military schools might just have their merits)!


The trip was not without some very pleasant moments and was generally a good one.  We saw some really great shows, took a very interesting tour (more on this in a moment), ate awesome food, and saw some new and beautiful sites.  We also saw some very authentic human unpleasantness.  Peace and pleasant human interaction are never a guarantee in my situation, of course, but when one is a trans woman surrounded by red necks, blue hair, and bible churches; discomfort and discord take on feud-like proportions!  There is no question that I was well behind enemy lines at the very least.  I know that some of you are saying to yourself, (or possibly out loud, there’s no telling with this bunch) “well she put herself in that situation... what did she expect?”  


You know what?  You are right.  I did put myself in that situation.  I have repeatedly put myself in that situation, and I will continue to put myself in that situation; because I do not believe I should have to voluntarily segregate myself from mainstream society in order to secure my own rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  Further, I repeatedly put myself in that situation, because more often than not, the result is positive.  Indeed, even on this trip, I enjoyed a few very positive (or at least not negative) interactions.  The unfortunate truth, though, is that this time the odds played out on the side of the negative.


Between angry onlookers, blatant oglers, and disrespectful hotel staff; I got the very distinct impression that there a lot of people in Branson who do not believe I deserve to enjoy any of the rights I mentioned above.  Possibly the worst offense was my very first interaction in Branson at the front desk of a Baymont Hotel (who, by the way, will be hearing exactly what I thought of my experience there), which started out very pleasantly.  The gentleman (and I use that term sarcastically) behind the desk was exceedingly friendly and joked smilingly with both my partner and I right up to the moment he looked at my ID (and the incriminating “M”).  In an instant, his entire demeanor changed.  The smile quickly disappeared from his face, he stopped making eye contact, and his voice affected what I can only compare to a growl as he as hurriedly as possible completed his dealings with me and turned away.  From that point, the worst encounters were little more than angry or baffled stares from overstuffed redneck men and angry old ladies, the latter of which I am used to... old women are the worst and most blatant offenders when it comes to human sensitivity... and you can quote me on that.


This is the screwy part.  Aside from the first night there, every negative encounter happened during the day when I was out and about (and sweating my ass off... sorry... glowing my ass off), and every experience was either with passers by or other patrons in establishments we visited.  The worst were restaurant visits, during which I spent my entire lunch being stared at from every direction.  I will say that with the exception of the hotel dude, every other “employee” I encountered in the businesses of Branson was perfectly courteous, even when an ID check was involved... so that was good.  What makes this interesting is that when we dressed up and fixed up to go out at night, whether to a show or a restaurant, I was treated with the utmost respect and courtesy.  Every interaction from friendly conversation to flirtatious banter was a positive one.  That was good.  But the whole experience really made me think.


What a strange paradox it is that in the space of a few hours and with a simple change of clothing, I can go from vile specter to lovely patron (and in some cases, "hit on" material).  I worry about that.  What if it never changes?  What if those awkward moments continue to happen?  I am about to spend an entire barrel full of money to fix most of the remaining features that “call me out,” but I will always be a tall girl with broad shoulders... a beautiful and sexy one, for sure, but the fact is I will always stand out.  What if in always standing out, the added attention continues to cast doubt?  Am I being foolish to even try to correct my non-feminine features?  I know what some of you are saying to yourselves (and at least one of you out loud, you know who you are): “So what?!  Fuck them all.  Be proud of who you are.”  


Thank you for that, and you know, most of the time that is easy enough.  One thing many of you know about me is that I look at all things with a certain amount of skepticism.  I never fully relinquish doubts.  It is one of the things that made me a pretty crappy christian (never mind the whole divorced gay transgender thing).  This trait has honestly served me well over the years, and I frankly consider it a strength.  I bring this up, because I want to assure everyone that I am not changing course, and I am not considering backing out.  It is important to me, though, to continue to recognize what is going on in my head.  And over the last week, I have worried a little about what will come after surgery.


There is only one way to find out of course, so anchors away boys!


Remind me next time to tell you about the “Sixty Six Million Dollar Man’s Problem: Nature,” Or, “Why should I move off this flood plain? You fix it.”  


Also, I have to tell you about a hilarious battle of wits between a ten year old girl and a zipline tour guide.  Spoiler alert: girls rule!


Peace friends,
Kate

I Put the “T” in “What the Hell Are You Thinking?” – And Other Fun Stories

Taking things in moderation has never been mystyle.  I am either going a million miles  an hour, or my boat is sinking.  Chaos takes on an artistic flair when I start getting motivated… but let us be honest; it is still chaos.

I have been depressed lately… very depressed.  Work life has played a part in it, home life even more.  Not much has gone right on that front lately, but it is getting better for the moment, so I would rather not dwell on that.  Sadly, work life would be phenomenal if not for the whole gender issue.  I feel like I made a bit of a tactical error by not laying my cards on the table before accepting the position.  But, the truth is I needed the job, so I chose not to risk it.

I may have experienced a mini-break through last week.  It is hard to tell, but I think that is what happened.  I know I am unhappy.  Over the last few weeks, all the things that do not make me happy have been rolling around in my mind and rearing their ugly heads at every turn.  I started thinking about what it would really take for me to be happy.  No matter how much I pondered the question, I had no answer.  I could iterate all the things that make me unhappy, all the elements of my life that bring me discomfort or misery; but I could not list one thing that made me happy.

Allow me to pause for clarification.  Everything I am discussing is outside the realm of relationships.  This is not about the people in my life; it is about the life in me, and how much of me is living.

So, rather than think about what would make me happy, I started thinking about what my life would look like if I were to draw it for myself.  I pictured spending my days writing, painting, and publishing.  I would have fish in a beautiful aquarium (I don’t know why that is in my vision).  I would have music.  My time would be devoted to creation and imagination.  I would exercise and eat well.  I would wear flowing skirts, and my hair would be long and wavy.  I would spend time with friends.  I would cook.  There would be water in my surroundings – a lake, or the ocean, and a patio with a view of it.

From this simple exercise came a feeling.  I was thinking about my life in terms of how I would draw it if I could.  The fact is that life is mine to draw any way I choose.  Motivation reborn.

The problem is that none of it can happen now… well aside from maybe the fish.  I have work to do if I ever hope to embody the vision I have of myself.  But with this realization, I have redoubled my efforts to drive change.  I may be jumping right into the deep end, but that is usually how I do things.  In the last 48 hours, I have identified and set an appointment with a doctor for HRT, I have initiated electrolysis (I am at the end of seeing benefit from laser), I have re-enrolled in college(again), and by the end of this week hope to have FFS+ scheduled for this fall.

The next couple years will either get me where I am going, or kill me along the way.  It should be interesting.  Wish me luck!

Peace and much love,

Kate

Eyes Forward

I mentioned yesterday that new and exciting adventures are on the horizon for Kat-Girl. I am not quite ready to talk details, but I will tell you that I feel a real sense of rightness in my heart regarding my recent contemplations. Now, I have only to figure out exactly how to get from now into that future, and I am on my way! Of course, that is the hard part. Actually, there are several.

The concept floating in my brain is not quickly achieved. It is not an extremely lofty goal in terms of time to get there, but it could require as much as a year to accomplish in total, even if I am aggressive. The two primary stumbling blocks that I see right now are the challenge of remaining afloat while doing what I need to do to accomplish my goal, and the risk that the particular unfilled niche I want to satisfy could be filled by the time I am ready. I think that risk is fairly low, but it is a risk, no less.

I am excited, friends. I am also a little scared, but I really do feel like I am on to something. The most exciting part is that I have entered into this (okay, all I have done so far is send an email... but, you know) without a male mask. If I succeed, even in part, this will be my last step toward a permanent life for Kate. We are talking months people... months!

Last year at this time, my best hope was a three to five year plan to finally be able to live a true life in the correct gender. Now, I have a chance to reach that milestone by the end of this calendar year and maybe even sooner. There can be no more compelling argument in favor of taking the leap. Doubts and worries aside, my one thought is that I must get there... no matter what it takes. It is no longer a question of if I can do this, but of how I will get it done.

The trash bags are poised at the closet door, awaiting that final clean out. I cannot believe I am so close.

Peace and Love from Cloud 9,

Kate

Catching Up, New Beginnings

I sit watching Netflix and hacking up lungs, writhing in the agony of body aches and sore throats, and generally feeling pretty damn cruddy – yes dear, neglected readers, Kat-Girl is under the weather – and it occurs to me that I should be using this time to catch up on long overdue writing.  The Netflix Queue can wait.  Change is on the horizon, loves.

The fabric of my disparate life paths has stretched to its limit, and a tear is beginning to form at the edge.  The filters are beginning to fail, and the time is coming when life outside of Kate will not be possible.  My ability to convert to a faux male finish has begun to match my desire for the same.  That is to say, not only do I no longer wish to maintain a male persona (ever), doing so has become difficult.  The scale has tipped.

Not long ago, switching to my correct self was the challenge.  Getting it right was an elusive dream, and my unrequited passion was to hear and see the evidence of public recognition of my correct gender.  It has now become commonplace.  Dressed sloppily, and even unshaven, I regularly hear “ma’am” when addressed in public.  It is not perfect.  I am seldom “mistaken” for female when dressed for work (though that too has happened), and I do still inspire an occasional double take or questionable stare.  The beautiful thing, though, is that I virtually never notice.

I will catch the overly blatant assholes, but generally I become aware of a situation only after my beautiful partner becomes “protective.”  And in almost every case, my reaction is a sense of wonder at the power I hold over those individuals’ happiness.  Imagine being so miserable in your life, that your entire day can be unsettled, because I happened to walk within twenty feet of you – how sad for you that you would give me that power.  And to think, I am the one in therapy!

Things are not perfect.  I have bad days.  Most, not all, of them stem from the discomfort of continuing the male façade for the sake of maintaining a career.  Those days, too, are numbered.  Life is too short, and I have already sacrificed far too much of mine to this game.  The day is approaching when I will finally clear away the last remnants of a false life, the closet will be cleaned of trousers and golf shirts, sport coats and neck ties, and my divergent selves will once and for all resolve into a single life path.

The thought both terrifies and exhilarates me.  I am scared, because of the practical matters I do not have figured out; but I am so excited to know that life is moving forward and in the right direction.  No matter how scary, I cannot pick flowers from the garden, when my hands are full of tools from the shed.

You cannot love anew, until you let go of the old… unless you are Newt Gingrich… and we can all see how that worked out.

Peace, my loves.

Kate

Resolution Revolution 2012

Greetings, friends; I have a half dozen other posts started and waiting for my attention, but I wanted to share this with you today.  New Year’s resolutions have never really been part of my life plan.  I have tried them a few times, and I have experienced that ever-predictable outcome.  We all know the drill: make a list of things to get done in 2012, set rigid time lines, and aggressive goals, and immediately start blowing it only to shrug off the entire exercise by the end of January.  I am taking a slightly different approach to the process this year, and I think it may interest some of you.

The primary difference this year is that I will not set specific targets.  I do not intend to actually reach an end point with either of my focuses for the year.  I wish only to improve in certain parts of my life, not to reach any particular milestone.  The other change is that I am no longer including gender issues as part of my quest, and this is for two reasons.  The first is that I am on a course, and the momentum is already there.  I do not need to push toward an end game – I feel that I will achieve those particular goals already (YAY!!!).  The other reason I am not focusing on gender issues is that my gender is not the source of my unhappiness.

Sit down, please do not panic.  There are no broad political or philosophical statements happening here.  No one needs to cry heresy or blow up the blogosphere with even more trans-political drama.  I am not suggesting that correcting my gender is unnecessary; on the contrary, I have to do it.  I am saying that if I could have those operations and make the final switch tomorrow, I would still be the same unhappy person; I would just be an unhappy person in the correct body.  Knowing that I will achieve my gender goal, I am free to focus on my mental / emotional wellbeing in the rest of my life.  After all, what is the point of reaching my goal if I cannot be happy when I get there?

There are two issues that I feel a need to work on this year.  I am not sure which is the larger or more difficult to address, but each adds a fair amount of negative energy to my life.  In fact, I believe they are two of the major sources of my unhappiness.  One problem I see in myself is that I carry a lot of regrets.  I spend significant amounts of time looking back over my life, analyzing, considering, and lamenting the various events in time and mistakes I have made.  2012 Focus #1: I want to work on looking back less – living in the present and toward the future.  The other issue will be a little more difficult, I think.

I have always been a very repressed person, and I think it is a lot of what drives both my terrible mood swings and my anger issues.  I bottle things up.  When something bothers me, rather than address it and risk an uncomfortable situation (and my own relief), I hold onto the emotion and let whatever issue caused it slip away.  The problem is the feelings never slip away.  I constantly carry with me a well of pent up emotions and hurt.  Those feelings build with each new event, until all the negativity bursts out of me in fits of anger and tears.  The worst part is that the various events are usually minor, and ultimately so too is the issue that tips the scale; but by the time the balloon pops, I have the emotions from countless previous issues that pile onto the one that finally pushes me to act on my feelings.  The result is ugly… and often ridiculous.  Not to mention carrying all that negative emotion around is just depressing, and it shows.

So, (drum roll please) 2012 Focus #2: I need to stop carrying an emotional cache.  Rather than concern myself with appearing unreasonable or being a bitch, I simply need to express the emotions that occur when they occur.  I need to stream my response to life, not buffer it.  I started working on this yesterday, and I quickly realized that I have a bit of a well to drain before I get it right and can express myself openly and appropriately in a moment.  Right now, my intensity level is still a little off pace with the nature of events that upset me.  The molehills did not quite become mountains, but they certainly would house some big moles!  Regardless, it is progress.  I do not think I will get it perfect, and I am not going to try.  I just want to do a better job of letting go of the things that upset me, and I think that starts with not trying to contain the emotions those events create.

There you have it, my plan for the New Year – leave the past in the past and my cards on the table.  No looking back, and no holding back.  Let it go, and let it fly.  Weigh anchor and weigh in.  I think you get the idea.

Ciao babes!

Kate

The Truth

I expressed recently my struggle with life by announcing the end, at least temporarily, of my writing efforts.  By way of explanation, I had begun to feel that the writing was not actually helping, but that I was just perpetuating more of my own bullshit.  I have struggled with anger and depression most of my life, and a lot of that anger and depression stems from elements of my life about which I have not been completely honest.  I was not being honest with myself; and in my writing, I was not being honest with my readers.  That is not to say that what I wrote was untrue – far from that.  But, in truth, what I wrote was generally an optimized version of my reality.

I pretended that I had it figured out; that despite the hardships I have endured, I was on a path to enlightenment.  The truth is that I was just hiding behind fancy words – sugarcoating depression with prose.  It is time that I deal with the stark reality of my mental state.  And so, I am going to share some uncomfortable truths with you, my friends.  You may want to avert your eyes (I would not blame you).  Understand I am not being sensationalistic; I am trying to clear the air, and I am trying to give myself a solid foundation from which to build a future.  I hope you will bear with me.

The Truth:

I am unhappy most of the time.  My outlook is bleak, and my attitude is burdened by the utter shame and disappointment I feel over the many failures in my life.  I am ashamed of my lack of conviction and my fear of confrontation.  I am embarrassed to admit that I am afraid to upset people, and that I feel an overwhelming need to be liked and appreciated.  I try over and over to break the chains and patterns into which my life falls, but I continue to repeat the behaviors that cause the problems in my life.  I am haunted by unvanquished demons from my past, and they invade even my happiest moments. 

I feel guilt and hurt and pain over things I should long ago have released.  I need to let go.  I need to get past all the barriers that keep me from finding my true happiness.  It is such a long list, but I must address it all and let it go:

• I have lived most of my life in the wrong body.  I am afraid (maybe irrationally so) I will never fully be able to resolve the problem.
• I feel the crushing weight of the hardships I have forced upon my children.  I robbed them of the things they held dear – an intact family, a loving father – and I cannot ever give those back.  Every time I see that their smiles do not quite reach their eyes, I die a little inside.  I have stolen my children’s happiness.
• I resent that I am now expected to provide the very things I failed to give my own daughters to another child.
• I feel guilty that I resent the expectations placed upon me, because I know they are reasonable.  At the same time, I am so afraid that giving over to those expectations will hurt or diminish my relationship with my daughters, I just cannot bring myself to embrace the situation.  That, too, makes me feel guilty.
• I continually feel like I am playing a part in someone else’s life story, and that mine will never stand on its own.
• I am afraid of personal confrontation and am embarrassed by that.  And despite the more and more extreme ways in which my inability to “disappoint” others’ expectations of me puts me in worse and worse situations; I cannot seem to stop myself from playing my part in their versions of my life.
• I know that I was and am a disappointment to my genetic family, despite a lifetime of trying to make them proud of me. And I feel like no matter what I do, that will never change.
• I never had an authentic conversation with my mother or father about anything.  They never cared to know me, and I never tried to know them.  My father is gone, and I miss him very much, even though he would probably disown me if he were still here to see what I am doing in my life.
• I regret that I cannot have the kind of relationship with my family that I have always dreamed of, but the fact that my dream includes my place in the family as daughter, sister, granddaughter, and niece seems to negate the possibility of ever having that relationship.  Still, I miss having a relationship with those parts of my past.
• I want people to like me.  Even when I do not like someone, I so want the person to like me that I am not true to my own feelings toward him or her.  On the very rare (practically nonexistent) occasions when I have been true to my feelings, I feel so terribly about it that I immediately reverse course.
•  I resent my genetic family’s intentional exclusion of me from family events and efforts.  This has always been a problem.  It has reached new levels; however, since my coming out.  What does it say, when someone would include you in a family email just to insure you knew that you were being excluded from the family?
• And most recently, I feel completely betrayed by the one person I should trust with every element of my life.  I know that she was trying to help me, but I was so emotionally devastated and embarrassed by the events that arose out of her help, that I am still struggling to get past those feelings of… well… hurt, I guess.

There are so many more little demons, but I think this captures the big ones.  You can see that there is a lot on my mind.  The rub is that I understand the irrationality of most of this.  I also know that much of it will resolve itself over time, and that I too have the power to resolve many of these on my own.  Some may never really get better (my family, for example), but I have to find a way to move beyond them in my own life.

That is my goal for the new year – my early 2012 resolution.  I must find ways to deal with and finally move past the demons from my past.  This is going to be hard, but I think what we can take away from all this is… that…

Katey is back!  Katey is back, and she is as healthy as ever (and she will get better).  

Thank you.