Countdown to the New Me

So I've been slacking a little over the last few months in writing.  My path to transition was forced into a temporary slowdown as I worked towards my weight loss surgery as posted about in my previous blog.

But things are picking up and my path is currently clear. Today is Thursday, March 15^th, and much like Caesar, I will not "beware the Ides of March." This past Monday, I began my 2 week liquid only diet that will bring me right to my surgery date. On March 26, I will go under the knife and have a portion of my stomach removed. Since January 1, I have lost nearly 30lbs… I am less than 300lbs for the first time in nearly a decade, I'm feeling stronger, my back hurts less than it has in years, and most importantly, I'm feeling GOOD. I am looking more forward to this surgery then I ever thought I would, when I first started seeing the surgeon in October, I was a bit nervous, slightly unsure of where the future would lead. But I've made it this far and the future is looking bright.

And now for the even better news, I learned last week that I will be able to begin taking hormones 2 weeks after surgery. So I looked over my calendar and decided that I'll wait 4 weeks to play it safe and, Happy Birthday to me… I made my next Endocrinologist appointment for April 26^th. I already know from my previous appointment with this doctor, that she is ready to prescribe hormones to me as soon as I'm ready after the surgery, so barring any unforeseen insurance issues or lack of inventory at my local pharmacy, I should be taking my first dose with a slice of birthday cake.

So that's about it for today, I will try to write a little more often as the next few weeks should be quite eventful. I am so excited I could cry. Life is finally working itself into a place that will be everything that I have always wanted it to be and I am about to become the person I have always secretly known I was.

Turning The Page On A New Year

I've never been the type to post the stereotypical "New Year New Me" bullshit when January 1 comes around. I've never made a New Year's Resolution that I know I'll never keep. I don't spend a ridiculous amount of money on a gym membership that will become dormant after three weeks. But this year is going to be different, because even though I won't actually say "New Year New Me," it is the year that this statement will be true in its most literal form.

            Late last year, I started doing a lot of soul searching, not just regarding my eventual transition, but in regards to my overall health and well-being. In a few months, I'm going to be 35 years old; I stand at Six-Foot-Two and weigh just over 320 pounds. I carry my weight well, and most people don't believe that I am quite so heavy, a fact that I am forever grateful for. However, most of the time, I feel like garbage. I rarely get a good night's sleep; I struggle sometimes to walk up a flight of stairs; and my back is always in pain. This last bit is thanks to several herniated disks in my back, I have stenosis of my lumbar, my sacroiliac joint is fused, and I have what one doctor referred to as "Impressive Scoliosis." And let's not forget my family history of heart disease and cancer, in fact, every male over the age of 50 in my family has had to deal with prostate cancer, so the odds of me facing the same eventual diagnosis are not one you would want to bet against.

            So what do I do about these health issues that are either building up or hiding around the corner like a mugger in Central Park? I've tried dieting more times than I can count (and I can count pretty damn high.) I've had enough of failing to make changes in my life, I'm done being in pain all the time. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. It's time to start looking at the other options. So in late November, I decided to look into Bariatric Surgery. There are several options, each with their own risks and rewards, and after careful consideration BEFORE my consultation with the doctor, I had an idea in mind of what I might want to do. I arrived to my appointment and met with the man who might finally take this excess weight from me and to my surprise; I left his office half an hour later seriously considering an option I formally said would never happen.  I went home and discussed all of the options with my parents and my wife, and together, we all agreed that the Gastric Sleeve might be the best thing for me to plan for.

            Don't get me wrong, the idea of surgery terrifies me, but after reading about all of the options, and hearing about people who've had not only the sleeve but some other options, it really did seem like the best and safest choice. So I set the plan in motion and made my next appointment.  My first step was to meet with a nutritionist, because in order for insurance to pay for the procedure, I need to undergo 4 months of supervised diet to prove that I can make the life changes that are necessary. Is it weird that this scared me more than the concept of having 70% of my stomach removed? Like I said, I've tried and failed at diets for most of my life. Isn't the entire point of bariatric surgery because I can't lose the weight from diet alone?

            So I meet with the doctor and she lays out this crazy diet plan that includes essentially NO CARBS. I was almost ready to cry right from the start, I don't remember the last day that I went without eating bread… when was the last time I went as long as a week without pasta. Next I'm told to eat plenty of vegetables, but nothing starchy such as potatoes, rice, or corn, (OK, I'm screwed,) and plenty of lean protein (that's doable.)  We made up a mini menu of what I should aim for each meal and I set off on my own to start planning. First thing I did was sit down with my parents and wife to discuss this meal plan, because there's no way I can make it without their help. Mom cooks dinner for us at least once or twice a week, usually fried chicken cutlets or some type of pasta. My wife works in a supermarket and loves to spoil me by bringing home my favorite chips or cookies. I know that if they can't change their habits, there's no way I'm succeeding on this diet, and I plan on trying harder than ever before.

            I decided that it would be best to wait until January 1, just because of the simple fact that I was planning on going to a New Year's party where the anticipated menu was frozen pizza and garlic bread.  So when that fateful day came, I was ready to give it the best try I could. I weighed in at 324 pounds and could not wait to see that number start with a 2 for the first time in almost 10 years.   I'm not going to drag out my daily routines, but after almost 3 weeks, I've lost almost 15 pounds, I haven’t had a single piece of bread or a noodle; I haven’t been tempted by a chocolate chip cookie or a bag of my favorite chips. I've spent just short of 3 weeks eating salads, grilled chicken, tuna fish, eggs and protein shakes. I've mixed up my salads by adding chicken and meatballs, I sometimes use buffalo sauce as a dressing to boost the flavors, and believe it or not, I'm actually enjoying things. It's thus far been easier than I ever imagined, and that's mostly been thanks to my amazing support, not only at home, but at work.

            I have so much to look forward to as 2018 continues, because in just 2 weeks, I have my first appointment with the endocrinologist, to start planning the next stage of my transition… HORMONES. While there is no set timeline until I will start taking them, it seems like it could happen really quick (although I don't plan on starting ASAP.) The people I've spoken to from the office are really nice, and they mailed me all of the new patient paperwork in order to get a head start on appointment preparation. Included in this paperwork, was the prescription to go for my blood work, and a request that I bring a letter from my therapist giving her recommendation that I begin my transition. From those I've spoken to previously, it seems like this could be a good sign for a quick start as apparently many others have to meet with their endo before being sent for blood work and bringing in the therapists note. So this office obviously stays a good step ahead of the game, and that could only be a good thing in my opinion.

            So as I wrap this post up, things really are taking a major turn in my life. I'm hoping that by the time my birthday comes around in April, I'll have started hormone therapy and have scheduled my bariatric surgery. 2018: The year that I finally start to love who I am and how I look, the year that Crystal becomes more than just the image in my mind.

Transgender Day of Remembrance

Last night was such a beautiful experience and we got to hear a few people share their stores. Some of these people Kerri and I have the pleasure of knowing personally, some we met for the first time.

It was a somber night as we paid tribute to the 25 transgender lives that were savagely taken from the world so far this year. There was then some mention the over 200 more worldwide who have been murdered, the estimated 40% of transgender deaths that are due to suicide, and finally those whose deaths have fallen below the radar due to misgendering in the news.

Towards the end of the night, some of us were asked to read from cards with a little bit of information regarding each of those 25 who were murdered this year. It was an incredibly moving experience that I'm grateful to have been a part of and I would like to share a little bit about the beautiful young woman who I was assigned. Because these stories need to be shared, these brothers and sisters of ours need to be remembered instead of being semi anonymous people who most will never know of.

Jojo Striker from Toledo Ohio was found dead in an empty garage on February 8th 2017. She was shot once in her torso and seemingly left to die by somebody whose identity has not and will likely never be discovered. Initial news reports continually misgendered Jojo and sadly, even her mother made reference to her "son" in a statement to police. Jojo was described as loving by all who knew her and her death had a lasting impact on her community.

This is only one out of well over 200 people worldwide. And sadly, as fear, hatred and bigotry are spread and government policies are continually brought to vote against our civil rights, who knows how high this list will be by the end of the calender year, or how high next years list will be, or the year after that. Many live in the closet for most of our lives because of the fear that we could end up on that list. Many turn to dangerous career choices because bigotry won't allow safer options.

I think of how lucky I am personally, I've been supported by my family, friends, and even my co-workers. And even though I haven't officially begun my transition yet, I feel safe in talking about my wants and needs as well as my hopeful plans with those in my life. With Turkey Day coming later this week, those people in my life who love and support me give me a thousand reasons to be thankful this year. And as 2017 comes to an end in just a few weeks, I hope that somehow, the world opens up their hearts and starts showing some love and acceptance to all those who haven't been as blessed as I have been. I hope that lives like JoJo Striker's are no longer taken so brutally just because somebody sees somebody different and feels nothing but hatred and disgust.

#TransRightsAreHumanRights
#TDOR2017
#TransIsBeautiful
#EndBigotry
#LoveOneAnother

Crystal Finally Gets Outside

It's been a long time coming, the feeling building up inside of me like a balloon with way too much air, so close to popping in a loud boom of dysphoria. This week, Crystal finally got to be more than an image inside my head.

It all started on Monday. Kerri and I were both off of work, and at a spur of the moment, I decided that I wanted to take my wig to a store and see if it could be fixed… or if I could get a better one. We ended up at a store about 15 minutes from home, called Wig Allure and met an amazing woman named Danielle who was so welcoming and made me feel incredibly comfortable. She didn't think that fixing the wig would be worth the money it would cost to fix, and while at first, part of me wondered if she was only saying that because she wanted to sell me something more expensive. Sadly, this is an issue that happens all the time for people. That feeling disappeared a few minutes later when I started trying on the new wigs. Danielle had me try on a few wigs of varying styles and color, some of which looked nice, but not really my style. Then she pulled out a wig that was very similar to my original, but in a lighter color. In her hand, I wasn't too sure about it, it was nice, but was it me? That question disappeared as soon as the hair was on my head and my face lit up. As soon as the smile hit my face, I could see Kerri's face doing the same. It was as if I was looking at an entirely different person in that mirror, and despite the 3 days of stubble on her cheeks, she was beautiful.

I didn’t walk out of that store as much as I floated out on cloud nine. I don't remember the last time I felt so good emotionally, and I wanted to keep riding that high as long as possible. So our next stop, despite the lack of funds for any purchases, was Sephora. I had been desperate to try their Color IQ scan, which promises to match the best foundation to your skin tone. I thought it would be cool, but was not prepared for the short interaction I was about to have. The employee scanned my neck and cheek, and put a dab of foundation on my face. She used so little of it, I almost didn’t think there was anything on the brush that was about to graze my face. But a moment later, there was a nickel sized gap in the middle of my beard. The result was so good that a random passerby would have thought that I had shaved a tiny hole in my face for no reason. The girl then gave me a small sample amount to take home for free and sent me on my way.

The next day, I started thinking about the upcoming Halloween party that the Transgender Resource Center of Long Island was hosting and decided that since I wear a costume 365 days a year, I would attend this party as the real me. I then made an appointment to return to Sephora before the party and have my makeup done professionally. As I thought about the amazing job I was hopefully going to get, I looked at my slightly bushy eyebrows and decided that after work, I was going to get them waxed. I made an appointment at Ulta and went on to meet another wonderful new friend named Kayla who not only did a great job on cleaning me up, but later in the week, she did a repeat performance for Kerri.

I couldn't have felt better, and as the week progressed, I couldn’t have imagined anything damaging my mood. But then Thursday came and almost ruined everything. I have a small collection of clothes, but I'm not fully confident in the sizing that I calculated on my own a few months ago. Most of all, I needed a good quality bra that would hold my forms in and not roll up on my chest causing discomfort. I turned to Mila, who runs TRCLI as well as the Transgender Universe web forum and we made a date to go shopping at the nearby Tanger outlets. We went into Torrid to start, I love their clothes… but apparently their physical store doesn't love me. Everything I liked, they only had up to the size right below what I needed. Being 6'2" and 315lbs is quite the curse when it comes to shopping. So we left disappointed and headed into Lane Bryant, another store that famously markets towards plus size ladies… we walked out empty handed less than 5 minutes later.

After 3 more stores and even less success, if there is such a thing as being less successful than nothing, we started heading back to Mila's house. I was on the verge of tears, calling myself a "fat fuck" and wanting to cancel my appointment for the next evening. But I knew I could not let the negativity win. So 24 hours later, I was sitting in Sephora, having my makeup done by a girl named Imani, who like Danielle and Kayla before her, could not have been friendlier and more excited to be helping me become me. When I walked out of the store an hour later, face made up and my new wig atop my head, I felt like the woman I had wanted to be for my entire life.

I had my makeup done in jeans and a t-shirt, so as soon as we arrived at the party, I practically sprinted to the bathroom to change into a beautiful, slightly sexy dress that I had got online months ago (I wish I remembered where). When Crystal emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, the reactions almost made me cry. My friends were practically bumping into each other as they all rushed to hug me and tell me how good I looked. And while part of me couldn’t help but think that they are just being supportive friends by saying that, I never really doubted any of them. I didn’t feel beautiful, I was beautiful. I struggled a little throughout the night, mostly due to my lack of experience with having hair. The bangs were constantly in my face and every bite of food I took came with a few strands. It took some major getting used to, but by the time we went home, I never wanted to take the wig off.

This last week has been the second greatest week of my life, beat only by the week that Kerri and I got married and went on our honeymoon in Niagara Falls. I can never thank all of those involved in helping me finally feel like Crystal in the truest sense. 

The Truth Shall Set Me Free

Sometimes the hardest things we have to do, is to discover the truth and tell the truth. We fight it, we lie to ourselves in order to try and deny the facts. We force ourselves to live with the lie because we force ourselves to believe that not only is the lie better, but it's so much better that it cannot possible be a lie.

But in the end, the truth will always come out... And as they say, "the truth shall set you free."

Ten months ago, I allowed myself to accept a truth about myself that I had hidden for the first almost 20 years of my life, and again for the better part of the following 14. But even in accepting part of my truth, I still refused to accept it all.

I was simply a crossdresser; I was non-binary, gender neutral, anything in the world but transgender. Even when I admitted that I was trans, I said there was no transition in my future. I promised my wife that there would be no permanent changes. (I don't remember making this promise but I also won't deny that it's something I likely would have said.) And while I still firmly state that I have no desire to undergo surgery, I desperately want to start hormones. (I sometimes wonder if my no surgery stance is the truth or another lie that I have yet to accept... I guess only time will tell.)

I go to support meetings and introduce myself by both names and state that any pronoun is fine by me. But it's not fine by me. I want to be Crystal. I want my sole identity to be this mystical side of me that I have refused to acknowledge for so long. I love hearing my friends refer to me as her; I fill with joy when I dress fem, and most importantly my heart melts when Kerri calls me her wife.

I don't think I will be the type who with shiver with dread upon hearing her "dead name." Craig has been a major part of me for almost 35 years and even when the time comes that he no longer exists in the here and now, his life and legacy can never be forgotten or ignored.

I was Craig. I am Crystal. My life can only be a perfect combination of ones memories and the others new experiences. Otherwise, I can I ever be whole?

The Day My Wife Finally Met Me.

Yesterday, my wife met two of the most important people in my Trans life, and she handled it better than I could have ever imagined she would.  We had been discussing the idea of her finally seeing me dressed femme for a little while now, and that day finally came. I took a shower and shaved, cleaning up as best as I could. I pulled out my secret bag and slowly got dressed. As I organized and debated on what to wear, Kerri sat there with a smile on her face. She complimented my boots and I think even got a little jealous of my taste. But overall, with love and adoration, she finally met Crystal. And even more importantly, she found that after all of this time, after swearing that she could never love Crystal in the same ways that she loves Craig, she realized that she did love the woman who her husband was to become.

Then we hit the first snag, as I filled my bra, Kerri noticed that I was a little lopsided and it just didn't seem to fit me properly. I fidgeted with the bra a little, removed it, put on another with less success then the first. Then she handed me one of her bra's to try on, but it didn't fit at all. We settled on my last bra, one which I had never work yet, and found that while it was the best fit around my body, it was far too big in the cups and therefore would never work at all.

I took a deep breath and swore to myself that I would not let this deter me. If I was going to spend the day flat chested, then so be it. I finished getting dressed and moved on to the next step, fighting with my wig. I don't really understand why the wig is so troublesome. The day I purchased it, it was brushed out beautifully and while the bangs were a little obnoxious in my eyes, it was manageable and I loved the look of the full finished product of hair and makeup. But every time that I have tried putting the wig on at home, I can't get the hair to stay in position; I can barely see a damn thing because of all the hair in my eyes. But worse, what I can see, is a very male face looking out from underneath. I don't know a thing about applying makeup, and have yet to have the time to try and learn, but it will definitely be the next thing I work on.

As I stare in the mirror, at this ridiculous looking man in a wig, I finally broke and Kerri met that super villain that plagues the lives of all of us… Dysphoria.  I started to feel the anxiety building within me. I wanted to cry but knew that I had to be strong and not let that evil bastard defeat me. I kept trying to brush the wig and make something work, but while I succeeded in letting the tears begin to flow, I lost the battle and began to flip out internally. I pulled the wig off my head and almost flung it across the room. Within seconds, Crystal had disappeared in a fury usually reserved for the Tasmanian Devil and before Kerri could even blink, I was pulling on my boxers and guy jeans.

She came with me to visit my therapist and I discussed this mini breakdown with logic and a sound mind. Kerri was more accepting then I ever thought she could be and today, after all of our times where I would support her when she was depressed, she was my rock. She held me up and kept me moving forward, and I honestly believe that if she wasn't with me on this day, I would have had a complete and utter hysterical melt down. We left therapy and she insisted that we stop into Target to get some storage drawers, so that my Crystal attire would no longer be shoved into a duffle bag. We then stopped at 2 local costume stores to try and find a new wig that while cheap, might not have the ridiculous bangs that would keep me from seeing. We were unsuccessful on that front, but talked about going to a legitimate wig shop in the future to try and 1) get my wig styled better so that it can be managed and 2) maybe get a new wig altogether.  

Kerri also suggested that I reach out to a friend in the community to maybe see about going shopping together. There was no thought into which friend to contact and I reached out to somebody who I admire greatly. I have never gone out shopping for Crystal, choosing instead to shop online because I didn't want to walk in and be mocked for my appearance or my choice in purchases. Hopefully my friend and I can go out soon and I can put most of these fears behind me and find the best version of Crystal that there can be. 

Out of the Closet

Today was an amazing day. I came out publicly both on my social media as well as to my coworkers. So far, my revelation has been met with nothing but positivity and support. Some of my colleagues have asked a few not to invasive questions regarding how my life and presentation at work will change. I explained that I am working at figuring out my pace and will let them know well before I start to really set into my transition. For now, they are welcome to continue to use my male name as well as current pronouns. Everyone was respectful in their questions to me and the most common response that I have received has been regarding my bravery. I personally don't see myself as brave, but I understand and respect the reasoning for the label. I know that odds are that eventually, my luck will run out and somebody will not give me such a warm acceptance, I even suspect who these people will be. But for now, I just cannot believe how lucky I am that everyone in my life has been so amazing. I have the most wonderful wife in the world and I have the greatest friends. I also have been quite fortunate in finding websites such as Transgender Universe as well as the members of a local support group, without whom, I don't think I would have come so far out of the proverbial closet as I have today. Thank you, I love you all.

A Timeline of Self Discovery

I'm about 7 years old, riding the subway with my grandmother on our way to the Natural History Museum when I notice them for the first time and it makes no sense to my adolescent mind. Skin doesn't look like that, so soft and silky, but it's also definitely not pants, which are so hard and rough looking. What kind of magical fabric is that? And why have I never seen them before… why have I never worn them before? I can't help but staring at this woman's legs, crossed smoothly next to me. I have to... no; I NEED to know what that feels like.

I'm 10 years old, my best friend and I are playing what we have come to refer to strictly as "the game." We pretend that we're older, and we're boyfriend and girlfriend. We sit on the couch in my basement watching movies, his arm stretched out around my shoulders. Sometimes we sit in front of my father's workbench and pretend that we are meeting for the first time at some dive bar and he's picking me up. There's never any type of physical interaction… we're far too young to even consider such a thing, or to even realize how abnormal the game is. We never speak of the game to our other friends or our parents. Once we grow out of the game, we never discuss it again… for all I know he never even thinks of it again… but I think about it almost every day for the rest of my life.

I'm 12 years old; my parents have let me stay home alone for the first time. I only have about 20 minutes at most until they are back from the store. I know that I need to pass this test, show that I can be trusted by myself, that I won't do something ridiculous. But this idea slowly builds in my mind and I realize that now is my chance to finally answer a question that has lingered for something like five years. I run up the stairs and into their room. I pull open the dresser drawer with caution and find my treasure. I quickly run to the window and make sure there are still no cars in the driveway as I pull my socks off and get ready to finally feel that magical feeling I have been dreaming of.

I'm 16 years old; I don't remember the last time that I was home alone and stayed dressed in my boy clothes. I have a drawer in my room with a couple pairs of pantyhose that I stole from the Waldbaums near my house and a bra that I stole from my mom's underwear drawer. I put them on then pick something from mom's closet. I then hang out, usually staying in my parent's room so that I can see out the window if somebody comes home early. These are some of the best times of my teenage years.

I'm 19 years old; I'm just getting home from the Post Office where I just opened my first PO Box. I am a ball of energy and excitement as I head to my computer so I can order clothes for the first time. I quickly max out my credit card with purchases from every website that I can find whose clothes might fit me. I hope these things fit because I don't know a single thing about sizes.

I'm 20 years old and having a panic attack. After 20 minutes of staring at my computer, I had just hit send on an email to my mother, telling her that I think I may be transgender. I hear the familiar "you've got mail," in the distance and I know that the email has been received. There's no turning back now. Mom will eventually tell me that she will love me no matter what I do, no matter who I am.

I'm 21 years old, I've gone to a few meetings of a support group in Bay Shore, but I feel extremely uncomfortable. I think I was the only person there under the age of 50. I've been reading everything I can find about dysphoria and transgenderism. There aren't a whole lot of resources, but what I can find, I don't identify with any story that I've read. All of these people talk about how they hate every single bit of their bodies, that they despise their genitalia, that sex isn't enjoyable to them. I start to consider that maybe I'm not Trans after all. I no longer dress up every time I'm home alone and I no longer love all of the clothes that I have collected.

I'm 23 years old; I haven't dressed in almost 2 years. I do miss it from time to time, but I don't need it. I've gotten rid of most of my clothes, but still have a few little things, mostly pantyhose that I only occasionally touch.

I'm 26 years old and I've all but forgotten about the time I used to spend alone dressed up. The memory is so distant; it could have all been a dream. My parents don't ever ask me about it, the two friends who I had told are no longer in my life. Something feels like its missing deep down inside of me, but I don't ever think about it.

I'm 33 years old, and I start a job where I will have to wear a suit and tie to work every single day and sometimes, I kind of enjoy it. Nevertheless, something is definitely missing in my life. I try to ignore it because what could I possibly need? I'm happily married, this new job seems like it's going to be a great change for me. The only thing that could be better would be if we weren't forced to move back in to my parent's basement. 

Drowning

There's somebody else living in my body. It feels like they're drowning… Pain overcomes me as my brain begins to scream. Next my throat closes up as I gasp for breath, but fire, not air fills my lungs. I fold forward as my stomach cramps up, the way you feel when you haven't gone to the bathroom in a week. My muscles give out and I collapse to the floor. I need to breathe I need to fight this pain, but I'm not sure who truly owns this vessel, the alien presence who feels right at home, or the natural being that never felt like they belonged.

I feel it taking over, consuming me from the inside out. The sensation is terrifying, yet I don't fear it. Rather I enjoy the sensation, like every nerve in my body is awake and jolting with pleasure. I feel alive. For the first time in my life, I feel like the person I have always wanted to be, like the person my body would never quite let me be. 

I wonder if this is how a caterpillar feels, as it weaves the cocoon around its body on its journey to become a butterfly. I've always wondered if the caterpillar knows when it's born and growing through its first life cycle. Do they know that this is not the form they are meant to stay in, that they are destined to become something so different, so beautiful? Or do they just begin their metamorphosis in confusion, unsure of what is happening.

Who am I?

So my brain is all sorts of fucked up right now. Just when I thought I was past this issue, it gets brought back up in a way that is eating away at my brain in ways I can barely explain. 

In June I came to the conclusion that I considered myself gender neutral. That as much as I enjoy the feminine side (which I sadly barely ever get to tap into) I still had masculine traits and attire that I was fine with keeping. I told Kerri this with delight, as I knew this would alleviate a lot of her concerns about our future and was shocked when she didn't immediately respond with positivity. Instead, she told me that she didn't believe me. She said she wasn't sure if I was lying to her (to force her to stop worrying about the possible future) or if I was lying to myself (forcing myself to accept it.)

Over the next 2 months or so, it became an occasional debate but it had seemed as if Kerri finally believed me and we were moving on. She started becoming much more positive and accepting and things were great.

And then today happened....

I was hanging out with a new friend of ours from the transgender community and we were discussing some of the recent events in our lives. I started telling him about how much more supportive Kerri has been and how much it means to me. Since we're still fairly new friends, I wanted to give him some back story and explained how Kerri had previously not fully believed that I considered myself neutral. 

He then told me that he agrees with her. This absolutely floored me. Here is a guy who I've known for just under 2 months, who I've only really spend extended time with outside of our support group meetings twice, and he gets the feeling from me that deep down, I don't really consider myself gender neutral. He apologized and told me that he doesn't mean to force a gender idea on me. But as a friend, he gets the feeling that there's more that I am continuing to bury.

I don't know why this has affected me so much more then when Kerri has told me something so similar. Kerri knows me better than anybody, so obviously her insight should mean more. She should see deeper into me and know more about who I am. Therefore if she feels I'm not accepting parts of myself, I should take that more to heart. And if I truly don't believe that is true, it can simply be washed away. 

However, here's somebody who has faced his own internal struggle about identity. Somebody who was born in the wrong body and fought himself his whole life to understand and accept who is was truly meant to be. That own self insight could also give him the knowledge and ability to see that same battle inside somebody else. And through that, know the signs of non-self-acceptance. 

And that's where I'm stuck... And that's why I'm lying in bed at 2:30 am, wide awake, fighting tears and trying not to wake Kerri up. Trying to wrap my brain around this problem that I thought I solved three months ago. 

Could I be lying to myself...? Again? Still? 

Who the fuck am I already?