I stepped into the online world as my true self on February 10, 2007, a day that seems so very long ago. I had to scatter my writings around on the blogosphere for various reasons. I am reposting my complete blogography here since the beginning, my very first post.
If you've read this blog from the beginning to this point, this is the end of what I call "Chapter 1." This chronicled the years I considered myself "in transition" and closes with the previous post.
To continue reading my current life, please visit my main blog at
Years ago, I began to sort through the cloud of confusion over my mind's inability to unify this little trinity, that being my mind, soul, and BODY. The inner turmoil, the silent monster, always screamed at me while remaining perfectly hidden from those around me. And for too long I never thought I'd see the day they would ever grow closer into alignment.
But today is a day I never thought possible. Having changed my name legally and finally living full time is truly amazing, and this is only after five days. Though not much has changed as far as my unwavering commitment towards my children and family, my desire to be an exemplary employee, and my longing to see others pull through their own inner struggles.
The Tuesday that began with my wife and I taking our children to their first day back at school became the day I would forever truly be me. As you can imagine, I awoke before dawn's early light to shower and prepare to look my best before the judge. By the time the kids were awake I had already made them breakfast and was finalizing my eyeliner and pressed powder in front of the mirror. We arrived at the school later and walked the kids to their classrooms, making sure that the teachers who already knew about the kids' "father" would see my beaming smile as their first impression of me. By the time we got back to the car, we had to hurry back home to find my court papers and freshen up, my face already melting walking around the schoolyard in the hot morning sun.
I received a text message from two friends once we headed towards the courthouse. To my surprise I found out that Liz and Erin were driving a considerable distance to be present at the proceedings with me. Initially I thought I might be standing alone in front of the judge on this monumental morning, but I now had two friends there along with a committed wife who has endured enough pain on her own through this. That woman still amazes me.
We met Liz and Erin at the courthouse, and a case being heard before me concerning a custody battle ended up taking an extra half hour. Everyone around me could see how visibly shaken I was, and I fretted that somehow something would cause them to delay or cancel my hearing.
As the custody case ended, a young man and his lawyer walked out smiling; an indication that he had won some custody rights for his child or children. Just then I was called in to the courtroom by someone who immediately apologized for the delay.
I walked beyond the swinging short door and sat at the table in front of the stand. My wife, Liz, and Erin all sat in the box office seats behind me watching and cheering me on. Okay, they were respectful and quiet, it wasn't a Pittsburgh Steelers game, but I felt their presence there nonetheless, and it made the world of a difference to me.
I was immediately sworn in and the judge got right down to business, first asking me why I was requesting a name change, I managed to speak out louder than the internal noise of my pulse racing, and I think I said something to the effect, "I'm requesting a name change so that my name will be consistent with my gender transition." The female judge, visibly tired probably from the previous proceedings, smiled and nodded to the obvious. She then asked me the next question if I was attempting to evade any financial obligations by changing my name which I replied, "No, Your Honor." With that, she stated she saw now reason to deny the request, granted the request and congratulated me before dismissing me from the stand.
What felt like five minutes was recorded by the clerk as ONE minute. Wow. It all seemed to slow down for me. And I thought I would stumble through each question, stuttering horribly as my friends know me to so commonly do when I'm visibly nervous.
We walked to the county clerk's office to obtain the certified copies of the court record. I thanked Erin and Liz for being there, hugged them, and immediately left for the Social Security office to change my name there. I have to admit, that was the easiest part and we were done with all that within ten minutes.
On the ride home, my wife was quiet. She knew this was a moment I've longed for, but the joy for her was simply not there, and she just couldn't be as happy for me as I was for myself. After all, she watched the gavel strike as the name of her husband was completely and forever changed. And how could I celebrate this moment either? Yes, there was much inner contentment within me, and deep inside I was celebrating. But there was also that bittersweet feeling as I understood this was painful for her. I refused to allow the tears to well up. She didn't deserve to see me crying over her processing and feeling what she needed to feel. God I've always loved her. Ever since the day I laid my eyes on her in high school. Her funny glasses, her wavy hair, her narrow body, her soft lips. I loved her then and I love her today.
Who knows what the tide will bring?
As you know, I waited until Thursday to get my driver's license changed. I went alone and the process was straightforward, though the waiting is always the hardest part. When I was sitting at the counter with the woman who was assisting me, she had to ask a few questions to her boss about the gender marker process. I showed her both letters from my endocrinologist and therapist explaining that I was "irrevocably committed to the gender change process and should be regarded as female henceforth." The boss simply agreed with me and told her to make the change immediately.
What surprised me is that the woman admitted to me that, "If I didn't see your old driver's license, I never would have known. You're voice, the way you sit and talk, you look great!" Major ego booster there, I allowed myself to receive the compliment. Heck, I used to really suck at makeup. We all do when we first start off. I know I've made strides in appearance, mannerisms, and voice. But even after finally achieving desired results from that, I've learned how very little that plays a role compared to finally finding comfort within your own skin, and the confidence to walk tall and carry a big smile.
So two down and one to go. That one I really can't talk about, but you don't really need to know about that anyway. It's quite irrelevant to my story here. And that's all it is, my story, my life. We all have to write the pages to our own book.
Where to from here? God only knows. I've grown in many areas, in my spirituality, in the quality of my friendships, in my passion for my people, and to a degree in my maturity and the way I handle life's lemons.
But I humbly accept the fact that I'll always remain an imperfect woman. That is, until that final day where I hope to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." I commit myself to lifetime of learning, though my life will be lived authentically as the woman I am... legally, intrinsically, and externally.
I don't have tomorrow. Life is too short. I've seen many friends come and go, and I've seen too much destruction not only in the lives of those who struggle with gender dysphoria, but in the lives of everyone around me. I only want to be an instrument of peace and not help in the crumbling of those precious bridges around us. I've quoted this song before,
Lord, Make us instruments of your peace, Where there is hatred, let your love increase Lord, make us instruments of your peace, Walls of pride and prejudice shall cease When we are your instruments of peace.
Where there is hatred, we will show his love Where there is injury, we will never judge Where there is striving, we will speak his peace To the millions crying for release, We will be his instruments of peace
Where there is blindness, we will pray for sight where there is darkness, we will shine his light Where there is sadness, we will bear their grief To the millions crying for relief, We will be your instruments of peace.
I've seen transition as transcending that dark hollow tube to the other side. I hoped the sun would be shining there on the other side.
It is shining, and there is no feeling like the feeling of its glow and warmth upon your smooth but lasered and once beard-covered face.
I know, I know. I've yet to blog the rest of my experiences from this week's milestones. I'm on it. But in the meantime I've been finally allowing myself to breathe a deserved sigh of relief.
I was shopping earlier today at Wal Mart. I had to show my driver's license to purchase behind the counter Sudafed for my allergy prone family members. At first I thought, "Crap, I'm going to have to out myself!" And then it hit me, "DUH! You're license says the right name and looks alike!"
So later, as I was driving home, in my car I let out what could be described as a deafening scream and cried a moment of release.
It's coming. There's so much goodness to being steadfast. No one can take that away from me.
I just got back from getting my driver's license name changed along with the female gender marker. I have decided to post a before and after photo of what I looked like before (something I rarely do) so that my friends who have faced extreme discouragement can know that anything is possible if you set your heart to it and you hold onto HOPE.
The comparison is in a video I just wrapped shooting moments ago.
This being Day One of the rest of my life, I've asked myself and have been asked by a couple of people, "So what does it feel like now that you've changed your name legally?'
I'll jump backwards to yesterday in my next blog, but I wanted to explain what today feels like.
First thing this morning, I prepped my kids for and took them to school. They started classes yesterday when my wife and I appeared at the school together to walk them into class and introduce them (and me) to their teachers. This morning it was just me as I walked my son and daughter through the open court yard on campus. I mentioned to a friend that this time the feeling was unique. It was a moment of bliss as I walked my daughter, her small hand in mine and bright smile beaming, up to her classroom door. Everyone around me knew that I was her parent, though I'm sure they thought I was the mother. (I'm Maddie, by the way. I'll never try to co-opt the "Mommy" title again, even unintentionally.)
As that hot morning sun began to heat up my face, I absorbed the moment, the humid breeze, the sounds of children laughing and playing on the playground, the hugs of praise from parents all around.
And I honestly felt like I made it over that mountain. Not THE mountain. I don't think there is one single pinnacle in our lives. I've certainly climbed many mountains, and I've yet to climb more.
It felt wonderful simply BEING Lauren. As I said to my friend this morning, "It's not LIKE it's me. It's just ME."
Her reply will resonate with me throughout the remainder of the day: "You're starting to feel what the sunlight at the end of the tunnel feels like on your skin."
How fitting a response, and how cool that she seemed to almost picture the moment, though I hadn't shared how the walk was outside and not in the school hallways.
I'm not going to worry about next week quite yet. I'll deal with Step 3 of going full time when the time comes. So far I've already received early reports that that is going well too. I'll get into that at another time.
For now, I hope I've enlightened you enough that it is evident I stand humbled to be here today, having climbed that mountain, often times being carried up it or supported by so many wonderful friends and family. I slipped many times, even slid back a time or two, but something, someone, kept me going forward.
The little engine that could today is the little engine that did.
I knew I could, I knew I could, I knew I could.
And now it's time to soak up the sun. But this is Arizona... where's my sunscreen?
Oh, and yes, I was an 80's headbanger. This dang song has been stuck in my head all morning.
Over the mountains take me across the sky Something in my visions, something deep inside Where did I wander, where d'ya think I wander to I've seen life's magic astral plane I travel through
Chorus: I heard them tell me that this land of dreams was now I told them I had ridden shooting stars And said I'd show them how
Over and over always tried to get away Living in a daydream only place I had to stay Fever of a breakout, burning in me miles wide People around me, talking to the walls inside
Don't need no astrology it's inside of you and me You don't need a ticket to fly with me--I'm free--yeah
Over and under in between the ups and downs Mind on a carpet magic ride goes round and round Over the mountain kissing silver inlaid clouds Watching my body disappear into the crowd
Don't need no astrology it's inside of you and me You don't need a ticket to fly with me--I'm free--yeah
Make that two down, one to go. I got back an hour ago from the courthouse and changing my name with the Social Security Adminsitration. My name change is legal, and I'm now hitting the ground running trying to take care of all the other stuff.
I can say that I finally feel like I crested a major hill, the "I think I can, I think I can," now turning into a "I knew I could I knew I could!" I'll have more to share later, but for now it's all good. Oh, and you can still call me Lori, even though my first name is legally Lauren!
It's 12:30 a.m. and I've taken step one of three major steps this week. Tomorrow is step 2, when I walk into the courtroom and pray that the judge sees no reason to deny my name change.
There's little time for hesitation. I'm exhausted from the sadness and elation flinging me back and forth. My energy is spent, but there's not time to rest. The time is now.
I hope to have good news to report back later today (since I guess it already IS August 4th). I'm sorry I don't have anything wise or inspiring to write. It's go time.
So I'll get going... to bed, then to rock and roll.
But it's not. All weekend long my spouse has remained depressed, to the point where today she has been staring blankly into space, tears often brimming, while the kids and I play and do other things. This is hard for her no doubt. Transition is hard on everyone. I just can't explain to her anymore why I'm not doing this because I want to but have to.
She deserves to be able to respond and cope or not cope with this. She has every right to be upset. Time and time again I find myself simply not knowing how to respond to this, to her depression and other negative reactions. So knowing I can't console her in any way, I end up frustrated and angry. Not good.
All I ever wanted was to try to survive this, to get
past this, and move on and forward in life. And I wanted to do it with her and my children. Everyone knows this. But tonight I find my heart cold and alone too, full of guilt and sorrow, while I should be ecstatic for what's to come on Tuesday.
I'm moving forward. We both know that. Perhaps this is the part of the story that rarely ever gets told about transitioning. Perhaps too many people are afraid to reveal the true tale of the consequences of transition. Perhaps that's why so many railed against Chloe for telling her own story on television. I spoke with her the other day on the phone and seriously, I'm glad that she shared the truth of the nature of the relationship between her and Renee. I certainly don't have the guts to reveal THAT much. But I have never candy coated my relationship difficulties either.
Why should I? Dang it, if I'm going to be honest with you and with myself, sometimes the truth tastes bitter.
And even through the thousands of miles I've driven to prove my love to my wife and children, my car being a frequent home for intense weeping, I've developed a sense of optimism that I've never had before. I see that I'm alive, I cherish each and every sunrise, and even when the day is over and my soul is emptied of its strength, I find strength in my God knowing that I'll arise to sing a new song every morning.
There's a new song arising in this heart. A new song arising. But tonight she cries.
I don't consider myself a Mormon, but I've been reading an interesting discussion about "Pondering the Complexity of Transgender Issues" over on Mormanity. I first commented on the site a couple of days ago, but I revisited the blog this evening and was astounded to see the comments up to 26. Reading the comments proved to be generally fruitful, with an occasional anonymous poster whose transphobic views were overshadowed by his/her inability to write in a complete sentence.
I highly suggest you take a peek at the post and the comments. I included a somewhat lengthy 27th comment that includes my personal view of what the story of the man born blind in John 9 means to me. I guess one of these days I might tie that to my getting struck by lightning survival story. And please feel free to enter into the discussion if you're interested.
If you'd rather not hang out there, feel free to leave your comments below. (Though I moderate all my comments, and all inane anonymous, incoherent, and transphobic posts will most certainly be deleted).
As I sit here at the doctor's office waiting for my daughter to be seen for her tonsils and adenoids, I realize all too well I've moved into a new stage of transition. After all, I don't need a judge to prove who I know I've always been. The name change is only the validation, as has been each step of every day over the last three years.
I see the validation now when I look in the mirror. But more importantly, I feel it when I dive into that pool of emotion and spirituality... it is a sense of that congruity we all long for.
I wouldn't say that I've "made it" or that I've "arrived," but I'm getting there, inching yet ever closer to the baseline, so that then I can finally just be.
We live and learn. Always living and learning.
Update: Here's a quick video I shot when I got home from the doctor visit I spoke about.
I just finished typing a post about my plans as the kids return to school next week. However my internet crapped out and when I published the post only half was saved in the autosave. I was really pleased with that second half. Now I'm stuck with rewriting, and I'm out time.
There are but a few days left before my court date. So much is rushing through my mind.
I'm listening to a song by Paul Baloche from the A Greater Song CD. In it the lyrics minister to my heart and my soul. I found the tears slowly cresting above the bottom of my eyelids, the gentle and sweet presence of my loving Savior consuming my being.
Then I pulled up the video and lyrics and the first image I see is something very similar on my own home page.
If you clicked on the video you know what I'm talking about. Pretty cool, huh?
I've traveled down a very long and winding road. My whole family has. To deny they've come the distance with me would be utterly wrong.
I found myself singing out, nearly screaming out the words to this song, as the tears carried the mascara off my lashes and down my cheeks as I sang along:
Here and now, here in this moment
Here and now I turn to You All that my searching heart has longed for can be found 'Cause You're in this moment, here and now
What majesty, what mystery, The God of all eternity Stepped into time and gave His life for me Your hand is seen in galaxies, Yet Your Spirit dwells in me So vast and yet You're still within our reach
There is nowhere You can't be found Nothing on earth could ever keep Your Presence out
Here and now, here in this moment Here and now I turn to You All that my searching heart has longed for can be found 'Cause You're in this moment, here and now You're in this moment here and now
I'm not claiming to have all the answers to truth. I know many friends who don't consider themselves Christian but call themselves spiritual in some way. Heck I even know friends who, though have no belief in God whatsoever, find a sense of spirituality to life somehow.
I can see why. All of creation calls out, a longing for something more.
But this post isn't about a particular faith. It's about where I am at personally, on this night, as the final days to my court date and true full time test begins. I was telling friends that now that a new dawn in my life is imminent, these last days are flying by me at full throttle, and I can't slow down the momentum.
I just don't have enough time to tie up loose ends, to tell more people, to fix what needs to be fixed.
Heck, even the monsoon rains turned my lawn into an eight inch forest of grass and weeds, and I don't even have time for that yet.
So this is it, huh? This is the anticipation people have told me all about. The anxiety, the thrill, the ability to become so easily angered, the chill, the frustration,
...and the hope. I can feel it in my bones. It's in the whisper in the winds, in the voice of a friend, in the smile of my children.
It's hope. I knew its opposite all too well for too long.
Pendulum.
Thank you for being such a patient group of friends and family. Thank you for putting up with so much whining and bickering and crying.
And thank you, God. Thank you for putting up with so much of my insolence. Thank you for not throwing a second lightning bolt at me when you could have so easily done so as I stood in the rain last year and said, "F*** YOU!" Instead, you allowed me to throw my tantrum but brought your discipline followed by lovingkindness - a sort of Jacob's fight, but at least you didn't break my leg.
You have always been so vast, and still within our reach. Even closer still, you were always there, always here by my side - through the calm and through the storm.
Yes, you never let go.
_________________________________________
and for those of you who wanted a follow up to my singing at church, here is a small clip of the last song. I've been invited back, so I guess it went well!
So this evening I crawled out of bed after suffering some mild heat exhaustion from having to work in the blazing sun for over four hours. I finally managed to rehydrate and cool off. My son, eager to buy Super Mario Kart for the Nintendo Wii, gathered up wads of dollar bills from his savings to buy the game.
As we drove to Wal-Mart to spend his hard earned cash, we passed a clothing store along the way. My son, true to form, says, "I HATE shopping for clothes! It's such a girl thing."
My daughter, sitting in the center seat of the back seats, piped in saying, "Well I love to shop!"
I then decided to state my own love for the clothes and shoes and said, "Well you know I love to shop too.".
My son hesitated for a second, stammers with a couple of inutterances, turns towards me with his eyes rolling and says, "Well you're PRACTICALLY a woman, Dad. Sheesh."
I laughed and said, "You're right, son. I AM practically a woman."
So to him I might not be fully legit, but I'll take what he says as a compliment.
Last Friday Larry King featured several trans guests in a show called "The Secret Life of Transgenders." Included were Alexis Arquette, Stu Rasmussen, Ryan Sallans, and Isis King. You may remember Isis last year from being the first transwoman to ever be on America's Next Top Model.
I was able to watch most of the show and really wanted to write a some afterthoughts on the program, especially after friend and blogger Karyn asked me via a Facebook update what I thought of Isis somewhat distancing herself from the term "transgender." At the time I was quickly distracted when my son caught a glimpse of the television set and asked me, "Was SHE a boy with a girl's brain like you? IS she a boy?" I was able to use the program as a tool to further educate my son about being T, and I think he began to realize that his dad wasn't the only out there who has transitioned genders.
I went back and watched most of the show later on and even found a blog post that explained the show in depth. I encourage you to head over to Living Out Loud With Darian, read his take, and you can even watch that particular show in its entirety there. (Click on over HERE).
I wish Karyn and I could have talked about all this over the phone or something at the time. Karyn's story and her successful relationship is something I admire greatly. (HERE is her site by the way).
Karyn's initial feelings about Isis may have changed, but this gave me time to think about how I felt about how some choose to back away from terms like transgender and transsexual. I see why some people would seek to do so. After all, once you've transitioned genders, have had surgery and are essentially living in your affirmed gender, are you really trans any longer in the true sense of the term? Not really. You went through a process of transition and are now living as congruently as possible.
Isis may have missed an opportunity to claim the title "T" in an effort to educate others, and in a way that could have done the community a service, but let's face it, I think she has already seized her fair share of standing in the spotlight over this. Her story of being a homeless "woman born in the wrong body" one year and the next crawling her way into the running for America's Next Top Model already reveals her courage, tenacity, and strength to get to where she is today. Once her previous life being raised as a boy was revealed, she owned her transition in front of everyone's television sets. Heck, the fact that she chose to come onto Larry King's show called "The Secret Life of Transgenders" is testament to the fact that she's not distancing herself from the trans community, she's standing right in the middle of it.
So she doesn't prefer the term "transgender." Big deal. She's a woman, and that's the way I see her. I'm hoping that's the way people will see that part of me, too. Especially the ones who've only known the male life I've pretended to live all these years. I know I'll always be a woman with a male past, but nevertheless, I'm going to live the way God made me. And who is to say he didn't allow this to happen for the very reason that at this very point in time, I was supposed to share my story with you, to take my turn to step up and say that this is who I am. I am transgender, a transwoman, a woman born in the wrong body, or a woman with a past, but there ain't nothing wrong with any of those titles.
You see, I was always beautiful, even when they called me ugly.
I had the opportunity to meet a female friend the other day who I haven't seen in over four years. Kathy moved to Washington, D.C. a long time ago, only recently did I share with her my intention to transition full time. I even sent her photos to help her see the difference in what I looked like then and how I've changed since. Because I looked up to her as the tough, kick butt and take names kind of woman, and because we have always been good friends, I was worried about her reaction when she arrived in town.
We agreed to meet at Starbucks after she had completed her main mission for the business trip she was on. I waited nervously for her to arrive, but when she did the gap of our instantly separated smiles closed into a gentle hug that caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter.
We sat and talked for nearly two hours, about family, about work, and about old times, sharing old stories that remain timeless. Perhaps I'll be able to share them here someday, time will tell.
"You look really good," Kathy said, then smirked and laughed, "but your ass is still flat!"
"Hey!" I exclaimed, almost smiling through an intentional grimace.
"What?" she replied, "You know I'll always tell you the truth."
Later, as we were walking to our cars, not knowing when we'd see each other again, I grabbed my camera to snap a photo of the two of us together. We were friends before, but our friendship was based on different terms. This time, a new friendship between two women was being formed, and I hope that the relationship we've always had will only be enhanced further now that she sees beyond the limited colors of my male persona and can now see the full spectrum of Lori.
Oh, I got her back, by the way. After I took the photo, we looked at my Blackberry to see the resulting image, and she immediately said, "Dang, I look soooo tired!"
As if right on cue, I answered back, "Why yes you do. And I look sooo much better than you!"
Her face was within inches of my own and with a smile and furrowed brow she whispered loudly, "I hate you."
Later, when she arrived back in her Washington suburb home, she wrote me an email. In it, she writes, "I just want you to know that I really enjoyed seeing you again. I have to admit, you seemed genuinely happy, and I'm glad that you are finding happiness in what you're doing. I wish you the best and we'll stay in touch."
Genuinely happy. Now isn't THAT what transition's supposed to be about? I'm learning that while it might have initially been about survival, life is so much more than just surviving. I truly desired that she would see the real me.
I'm not known for ordinarily ripping someone else's blog and pasting it into my own post. But I do want to point you to what I think is a well-written position on how we ought to act when we do so with a spouse alongside us. Renee begins with:
Over at T Revival, Lori asks the age-old question, where is the support for our spouses? It's certainly not at home...it really can't be. Like we've taken to saying around these parts, you can't be the shelter and the storm.
If you could be the shelter, though, this is what it might look like:
Disclaimers: I'm not an expert in the field of counseling, in case anyone was wondering. I don't offer this to browbeat the trans-community by pointing out what they're (we're!) doing wrong, but rather to show how really, really hard it is for us to be the support our spouses need. Finally, the below list is far from comprehensive; I may add to it, subtract from it, or revise over time.
Renee goes on to list some pointers like:
Understand that you are coming from a position of male privilege. Until you've transitioned and people see you as a woman, you will always have that. Just electing to transition can be seen as exercising a tremendous amount of privilege; not including your wife in the discussion and just expecting her to eventually "come around" is definitely privileged behavior. So is making any impactful decision (hrt, ear-piercing, GNOs, anything that involves an expediture of money, etc.) without involving her. And finally, one of the more interesting variations of male privilege is how responsibilities are divvied up in the household; because chores often have a (wrong-minded) gender bias, if you abruptly take over some of your spouse's duties (or expect her to to start sharing in the "manly" duties), you are exhibiting both male dominance and (potentially) consuming a part of her identity (more about that further down the list).
Be honest about your plans. If you are going to transition, tell her so. Don't be wishy-washy or beat around the bush. She needs to know the turn her life is about to take, and she needs to know now, not later.
Eliminate financial concerns from the decision-making process. Although it's getting better, in most households the husband is still the primary breadwinner and the person controlling the money. A spouse needs to know that she can make a decision that's right for her and not be homeless or without food. And this isn't just about whether she leaves or stays; transition is expensive and her concerns about the family's longterm quality-of-life are valid and important. Whatever her concerns are, neither you nor she will likely want to make a decision based primarily on economic factors.
Encourage your spouse to educate herself on the topic of transsexuality. Don't necessarily try to provide this education yourself. You are not an expert, and we transsexuals tend to have pet theories that sound good to us, but aren't necessarily accurate (example: no one knows what really causes a person to be transsexual...yet). Furthermore, it's important for a person to do, rather than to have done for them. Ownership of the process is as, or more, important than the educational material itself.
Do not minimize or deny her feelings. "I'm still the same person on the inside," is a classic example. So is talking about suicide all the time; "It was this or a gravestone," trumps every possible feeling she could have (and might suggest to her that if she's not supportive, you could start having those feelings again...if you do have those feelings, you should be seeking professional help immediately).
You can read the full post over at Transsexual Ferox (read it HERE). I'll be revisiting that post again because I'm interested to hear what kind of comments people will bring to the table. (Therefore I'm not allowing comments here).
Thirty-something woman who writes, blogs, vlogs (that means video blogs), phlogs (takes lots of photographs and claims to be a photographer). I love playing guitar, keyboard, and sing
UPDATE - 
