Renewed Recognition and Some Reconciliation

I was one the phone today and talked to a young woman who helped me set up an appointment to talk to a counselor.  I can’t wait!  It’s after my psychologist’s appointment.  My landlord may be angry with me, but its something that has to be done.

I feel that there’s something that has been gnawing away at me, it’s hard to describe, and yet feels like it should always be a part of me.  There’s something welling inside of me, struggling against the grain, against the tide of oppression (or is it depression, I forget).  LOL  But it is something that I will have to struggle with until I can spread my wings and fly as I need to.

I need this starting point.  To launch into another page of history!  I want to be free of the judgement, free of the stigma and free of the ‘use what God gave you’ mentality!  My fiancee doesn’t really feel wanted or loved; though I tell her many times a day.  When I start my transition, I can’t be here, at ‘home’ to do it.  She doesn’t want me to CD here; no makeup either; and I have to go elsewhere to CD and wear makeup…  I can do it at my friend’s house, but I need to ask his mother (who is a good friend) about it, should they go out…

I need someone to assist me in this, help them to reconcile their feelings, and come to grips with what reality is going to bring:  a different cover on the same package!  I just wish more people would stop looking at a person’s outward appearance and love him/her for the real person he/she is.  It’s the old “book cover” adage:  “You can’t judge a book by it’s cover.”  Too many people, mostly the uninformed, the bigots, the hatemongers, the inequality police, the ignorant, the outright left-wingers and the Bible-thumpers, believe as they believe, and will not change until we can stand up to them and tell them they’re wrong!  Look People; we’re a part of the Human Race, just like you; we hurt, we bleed, we comprehend, we are just like you, but a little different from the so-called ‘normalcy of society’ and that’s what makes your blood boil, your stomach churn, your head swim, fuels your xenophobia!

I am just one man on a beautiful transition to become the woman I should have been!  When I was younger, I loved tea parties, women’s shoes, skirts and makeup!  My dad and step-mom never understood why I preferred being with other girls my age instead of boys.  (I was only 4 or 5 at the time…)  I also loved Barbie dolls and the dress up with those…  My dad used to hit me, even when he was sober, whenever I mentioned seeing any female friends, and it was worse when he was drunk.  I hated my dad when he was drunk!  He’d tell the couple of friends that he had that would come around that I was “a fruit”, or “a queer”, or something more derogatory.  About 8 or 9 years ago, I had forgiven him as he had found God many years before, and it was the right thing to do…  “Forgive all transgressors and you will be forgiven your transgresses…”  [I hope that’s correct…  ~R]

We all strive for excellence in what ever field we choose, or in what ever tasks we endeavor to surpass.  We all have demons or skeletons in our closets, some of us keep them well-hidden, some let us peek every now and again, and other let them out, straight away, and tell everyone they know what’s been eating at them…  This is MY trip, my journey, my trek into the unknown, let me be in my own way and do not set forth sabotage to undermine my travels…  This is the way I want to pursue it, and you are just an obstacle:  I either hurdle it, go around it or go through it, and should I go through it, I’m not going to stop and ask you to move, I’m going to mow you down like the puny blade of grass you truly are!  I don’t like threats…  I don’t like requests…  I am just stating fact.  My intention, first and foremost:  I am not trying to hurt you.  I am trying to be who I am:  myself.

Misinformation is a cruel and dangerous thing.  I feel that until one knows all of the options, then you must realize that there’s more to that strange little book than meets the eye…  Even a first edition of Shakespeare’s “MacBeth” would be awesome should someone find it among someone’s belongings, even at auction…  Once the parcel it is in is sold, you have something that is nearly priceless.  Take it to Sotheby’s or a bookshop in the UK and try to sell it there…  You’ll get a better price at Sotheby’s than any other bookshop (even W.H.Smith’s, typically)!  I digress.  Looking at it this way you see that there’s more to someone than their outward appearance; that one book could look atrocious or have the binding nearly torn off, but it would still sell well, but better once it was repaired…  This is the state I’m in:  the state of disrepair!  I am a shambles of what I need to be to be complete and whole!  I need guidance, assistance and hope…

Where we go from here is up to us.  We are not islands where we are the dictators of our lands; we are the stewards of our bodies and sometimes we have to take matters into our own hands and prepare the land for landscaping and/or planting crops.  Once we start and make changes, we cannot, in our best interests, stop and just quit…  The land will not till itself, will not water itself, will not harvest itself:  we have to go through with our intentions, make the most of what land we have, and plant the flowers, shrubs and trees we feel will make the land more beautiful.

This is my path…  What’s yours?

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Landlord’s Hypothesis and Denial

[This is today’s journal entry.  The names of past friends have been altered to try to keep them anonymous.  This reflection is about my views and my hurt.  I hope you are not offended by this.  Thanks.  ~Robynn  (Tami and L are my current ex and my landlord, respectively.)]

I had been angry today about some things that my current ex had said to me after I got back from a computer gig from a friend.

She yelled at me and said that she wasn’t confused about what’s going on with me, and she’s more afraid of what this will do to her and walling me out, than making a stride toward me to offer me some support.  I give her credit, though; she’s pretty tough!

During her tirade, I left and slammed the door.  It knocked part of the door off, and the pet guard from the screen (things I fixed after I had gotten back from helping my landlord run a few errands), and went to see what my landlord (L) was doing, and if I could assist.  I never told him my plans, and Tami kept insisting, and fighting me to tell him.  His phone rang and he fumbled for it, then it quit ringing– he missed the call– it was Tami.  Not long after, Tami came over and again, this time in front of L, to tell him of my plans.  He told her that we’ll have a powwow and talk about it later.

After we took care of a few errands, I ate lunch, then we took off for a few more errands.  To the car dealer/body shop to have a car set up for paint, then painted.  To the auction house to drop off a heat exchanger.  To CompUSA to peruse the TVs and monitors and laptops!  I needed to drink something, I spent $.60 and bought a Pepsi from the vending machine, walked to the restroom, and proceeded to enjoy my beverage while I took care of my refuse business… LOL  That Pepsi certainly hit the spot:  I was so thirsty.  The caffeine was a nice boost, too.  (I’m diabetic and that one soda helped to bring up my lowish blood sugar…)

We left, he dropped me off at home and headed for Walmart.  I got back home (and this is when I fixed the doors), then washed up and made dinner.  We spent a good chunk of the early evening talking and breathing as I wrote another entry in my blog (my A Sight for My Eyes poem, something I thought up as I sat in the bathroom, reveling in the discord and discontent I felt while contemplating more refuse business… LOL)  I started in on it, Tami began talking to me again, and I was trying to keep my mind on the poem while trying to keep my ears focused on her.  She was talking and asked more about dinner, and I decided to finish off my poem, still fresh in my head, then make dinner.

It wasn’t really much, some instant mashed potatoes, some chicken strips, garbanzo beans and some soy milk.  Again, it wasn’t much.  We started talking again, and she began to cry.  I stopped to watch because she refused to allow me to touch her.  She’s letting me in now, but it’s a little soon for me to do anything drastic or compromise the compromise she’s showing.  I knew she was stronger than the façade she put on…  I hate being correct all the time… LOL

Anyway, around 8 or 8:30, L came over and reluctantly I told him.  He told me it sounds more like you’re bi-sexual than you are “whatever it was you said. …  I have had some friends who had the whole sex change, hormones and surgery, and some of them regretted their decision, but the others were fine with it.  …  It really just depends on whether or not you have that side to you, the counselor will determine that because they’re professionals, and you need to seek the counsel of a professional, not a pill-pusher!”  I told him I agreed with that assessment, then told me to “… seek out assistance at the local university’s psychiatric department to see if there’s a study I can get into for free, and have it all paid for.”  I turned away slightly, bowed my head, and thought, “WTH are you saying!?  Why would I waste some ‘professional’s’ time by revealing to him/her that I have been suffering from gender dysphoria for almost 27 years! and have him/her tell me that it isn’t that at all!?”  He also told me that there’s hope for you and Tami, just rethink it and seek professional help.  As he was leaving, I thanked him for his generous banter, but I thought that he seemed truthful and honest with his assessment of his G/T friends.  I just though he was out of line about me because, even after knowing me and befriending me (and I him) for the last 12 years, that he’d have a better understanding about my feelings and how I feel about my life, in general.  He wasn’t exactly correct about it, but he wasn’t exactly incorrect about it either…

I struggled with my manhood all throughout the latter half of junior high, high school, and into early college.  I struggled and fought with my emotions and distress and ended up in relationships where I wanted the hurt to quell my dark depths of depression, but in the end (figuratively and literally) I ended up alienating many of my gay partners, and many of their friends.  I swore off those relationships and stuck more with women, and I eventually began liking women more.  Go figure… O.o  I just needed something to take my mind off it all:  I ended up getting into church and into a youth group.  This never really dawned on me that I could live a better life, as long as I believed in God and prayed.  Sometimes the church seems almighty, but ends up being just like you:  confused about you and ashamed to associate with you…  And that’s what happened to me for a while…  But I digress.

My girlfriend at the time, K, was happy and beautiful, in an almost naughty school teacher sort of way, and I wanted to lose my virginity to her, as she lost her’s to me.  That never happened and she had sexual relations with a friend of mine, Morey.  He was a little taller than me, a little stronger than me, and managed to say the right things to her to get her in bed.  I hated her for about a year over it.  I made it a point to not talk to her when I saw her, or called her brother instead of K, because I felt she had betrayed my trust.  Once night I called her up and asked her to talk.  I walked to a convenient store near where I lived and she picked me up.  We went to a restaurant and ordered some food and talked.  (I don’t even remember the restaurant or the food… Wow! O.o)  I told her how I felt and how I felt that she betrayed my trust with Morey.

K was taken aback!  She told me that she never knew about my feelings for her.  She seemed genuine and honest about it.  I just wish I could have turned back the clock, to the point she had slept with Morey, pulled her close and asked her to “lose our virginity together”.  She agreed, but it was too late…  I didn’t hate her anymore, but I started to stop talking to Morey, but he knew what was up, or at least I thought he did.  She told me Morey never knew about our history, and just thought we were just friends.  K never told him otherwise… >_<  I eventually moved away and that was that.

I had moved to Florida to be with my dad and his fiancee and her daughter.  My brother J was there and living with them.  J hated V’s daughter, JC, because he thought she had a crush on him.  I had an encounter with V one day after school.  She picked me up at school, I wasn’t set up for the school bus yet, so she dropped me off and picked me up– she was closer with her job than Dad was.  She grabbed my leg and began stroking it, like I had been with my gay partners, and I started to get aroused, though she never touched me sexually.  She saw me getting uncomfortable.  She proposed to me a plan to get her pregnant, “you father would never know”, and “I’d have that child I want with your father.”  She told me she knew of his vasectomy and that he couldn’t get her pregnant.  I was thinking “If you get pregnant, won’t my dad figure you cheated on him with someone else?”  I thought about it for all of two seconds and told her no.  “I can’t let my dad down like that!”  She had agreed and would, now and again, proposition me.  I think JC found out from V that I was the one propositioning her mother.  That was just so out of character for me; I was saving whatever I had left for marriage (if there was to be one).  I never told my dad.  I never snitched on V.  They got married, I was Best Man.  (I wanted to wear a dress and all, but I hated to tux someone had rented for me.)  “If anyone should know or have cause to why these two should not be married, speak now, or forever hold your piece.”  I so wanted to tell everyone about her indiscretions and proposals, but that would have devastated my dad, and this was his day!  I zipped up quiet!

We had our ups and downs.  J moved back with his mom in Iowa.  I left because I got scared at school.  A girl had been wondering aloud if there was a guy to take her to he dance in a few days.  She sat behind me and would look at me when I came into class, then quietly sigh when I sat down…  I think she had a crush on me.  It scared me.  I told no one that I was leaving and I packed up my clothes, computer, screen and what little money I had left, and asked V to give me a lift to the bus station.  A bus ticket had been purchased for me, and I was going back to Illinois.  I never told them why.

[It’s nearly 1 AM, Tuesday, 21st August and I am falling asleep here writing this.  I probably finish this tomorrow, after I have some time to myself.  LOL  Thanks for the time you shared. U_U ^_^ ~Robynn]

A Sight for My Eyes

I awake to see the sun bathe the planet below with a loving happy glow.
I sit and watch as the day passes into night,
The little flickering lights remind me of stars in the inky black sky.
As the moon rears its sphere of influence across the planet’s atmosphere,
I see dancing stars on the oceans’ surface,
Like pirouetting dancers in an opera,
Happy, swirling, elegant.
The room I am in is very stark,
Barely lit by tiny blue beams,
All I have is my bed and my viewport
With which to see the world below.
I reach out to touch the planet
And I am greeted by the window’s surface.
Flat, smooth, transparent.
This room seems to be my prison,
A barely empty room
With a modicum of amenities.
(Some of which I cannot operate truth be told.)
I want so bad to be there,
On that lovely beautiful planet,
But I cannot get there…
Not yet.
I want to breathe in the fresh air
Not the stale air the filtering systems scrub.
I want to touch the trees,
The flowers and the sands.
I want to bathe in the oceans’ cobalt waters;
Bask in the warming loving sun!
I yearn for the touch of clothing,
That which can make me warm;
That which can keep me.
I need to feel the loving touch of another,
Whom makes me feel alive,
Wonderful,
Beautiful…
As I gaze out the viewport of my endurium-clad cell,
I cannot help but wonder if the people on that planet
Are truly happy in their lives;
Free of the oppressive tyranny and anarchy that I feel,
Every time I wake up from my sleep.
I hear a noise near the door…
I get up
Silently creep toward the door,
Listening to every sound,
Footstep,
Breath.
As soon as the door opens,
I spring into action.
I knock the man down,
Who is wearing a strange helmeted suit,
And stare evilly into the faceplace.
All I see is my reflection back.
The lights come on with a blinding flash.
I screech as I am blinded but roll my eyes to see.
The downed man is wearing an orange spacesuit,
Like the ones I wore when on my ship,
And I recognize an insignia:
That was the Y3M Mining Consortium patch my suit had.
(I knew it was my suit by the scar on the patch; had a fight and that’s where I needed to seal it!)
Wrenching the latches on the helmet of my suit,
The man was screaming not to and flailing to stop me,
I kneed him and he stopped with a yelp,
As I removed the helmet.
It was Commander Jeffers!
I knew I’d be saved!
“Commander,” he let out in a squeal, “glad to see you’re alive!”
He groaned and began to spit up blood.
I never knew he was injured!
I pulled him out of the suit,
Examined him and tore my bed linens into strips
And began bandaging him up.
Without Jeffers,
We’d never get off this station!
Once he had been patched up,
He spoke, “Commander, how did you get here?”
It was between heavy breaths.
I told him of the entire encounter.
He couldn’t believe I survived.
I couldn’t either.
424 days in this room,
This cell,
And a rescuer to boot!
I think today’s going to be a Good Day!
I got into my suit and put on the helmet.
I grabbed Jeffers under the arm and hoisted him up,
Taking care not to jostle him too much…
Those ribs were NOT going to just
Miraculously heal themselves!
Nearly dragging Jeffers,
We found our way out,
Back the way he had come.
A guard troop was marching in our direction,
Jeffers began to bleed around the back and shoulder
Where I was carrying him.
I smeared that ichor along with him when I had to move him.
I never knew, until now, that he had been bleeding this whole time…
I grabbed a piece of cloth from Jeffers pocket,
Ripping it soundly,
And proceeded to wipe up the last 20 or so feet,
While I sat Jeffers down out of the way.
I walked back to Jeffers and the troop didn’t notice us.
The commandant turned to look,
Took a big sniff,
And walked on,
Making a face that reminded me
Of when we all played poker,
And broke wind.
It was a face I made a few times…
We waited until they rounded a corner
And I proceeded to fix his bandages.
I couldn’t do much,
They were already wet and caking with ichor.
I prayed we’d make it to the Egress Tubes.
Another few hundred feet and another turn.
Another and another.
We found a detour to the Hangar Bay!
We just needed to be undetected when we went from
Corridor to bay,
Then bay to ship!
Setting Jeffers on the right side of the door,
And kneeling on the left,
I grabbed my garotte out of my leg pocket.
I also grabbed some gauze from another.
I knew we were going to need a distraction!
Taking the garotte and the gauze,
I tied the gauze to the garotte and
Proceeded to carry Jeffers on my back.
Legs, torso and arms were tied to me
And I slapped a hidden activator in my suit!
I felt the adrenalin coursing through my veins.
I told Jeffers to hang on and I went in,
Ready to kick ass and take names!
I was already out of ink!
A few cargo handlers tried to stop me as I walked in;
They needed to manage eating from the other side of their heads.
Another few, and another managerial system.
A pair of guards.
Disarming them, they ran.
On stun, I sprayed them with their own weapons.
Those goons, out cold.
Got to Jeffers’ ship and hit the contact switch.
We were bathed in blue light,
Then teleported into the infirmary.
Jeffers was extracted from my suit as I disrobed.
Still nude, I reached for a medirobe.
I kissed Jeffers’ forehead and told him:
“Get well. We’re going planetside! I’ve got some R&R to catch up on!”
Out in the corridor, I slumped over;
My adrenalin rush was gone…
I dropped to my knees, then slid onto my backside.
I leaned over, landed onto the floor with a rather sickening thud,
And proceeded to sleep where I lay!
I never knew we left the station,
But I knew we were going to the planet!
I just knew!

~Robynn

Poetry from the Other Side

Taking apart that which squeals
Makes one wonder how to heal.
Given the parts of the whole are there,
What is bunching my underwear?
I tried to make it happen with my own two hands,
Clasping the needles and pumping the gas.
The pain and blood force me bigger,
Making me feel ever smaller.
No two things have come to pass,
That I think of expanding with that gas.
Cans of dusting air are what I’ve used,
Forcing it into my temporary curves.
Harder and harder,
Faster and faster,
It goes in and get bigger.
As it deflates and I return to a semi-normal size,
I wonder what it can do for my thighs.
I’m not making fun of my plight,
I just want to stop this painful fight!
Help me to make the best of this.
I need to feel like I’m complete.
No longer miserable and unhappy
Seeking the stars in the sky and wondering…
Wondering where has my darkness gone?
Fighting with my own hands for the release,
The release of me!
My metamorphosis complete!
And the feeling of relief,
That comes from the grief
I feel when people stare in disbelief
That I’m going on this daring journey…
Fighting alongside those who have progressed
Into the Void of Nothingness
Fighting to find my Happiness
And to return with my body Unblessed,
Made to look like I feel I look…
Deep inside…
Past the Darkness…
Past the Denied!
And back into the Void,
Where Darkness can hide.
Let me be me,
Not the sum of my Gallantry!
That phallus symbol you claim as your own,
Is not yours but borrowed as you had grown!
That piece of stem you hold onto so dear,
Is as withered as that ignorance you fear.
I love you on my own accord,
So be it that you’re so cardboard–
A cut out so vile and weak,
Makes me think
Your style is Greek,
Because of the blather you’re spouting
Makes no sense to me, as my outing
Seems to make no sense to you!
I outed myself from this false gender role,
All you can say is that you love that false role!
That sham of a man,
Who is not the sum of his parts,
But the total sum of his being, his body, his love and his heart!
Take it or leave it!
I came!  I saw!  I transitioned!
For the betterment of My Psyche!

“Thank you and good night!”
~Robynn

My Transition (a.k.a. Metamorphosis) – Part 1 of Many

I don’t really know where to begin…  This is a document, in no real chronological order, but something close.  Please understand, I am going through some really rough times with my current fiancee and she’s taking it very hard.  I came out to her Thursday, August 16th.  I hope she can become forgiving and offer some moral support during my transition…  She doesn’t seem to want to…  I can’t convince her otherwise…

Here’s most of my story.

—–

I was 13 or 14 when I was having depression and suicidal thoughts.  My mom didn’t work and my step-dad was security for the old International Harvester-Farmall Plant in Rock Island.  He provided the monies, with his military pension, from three tour in Vietnam, even suffering from PTSD (more on this later), and we lived relatively happy lives.  I knew something was amiss when he took me hunting and I couldn’t shoot any squirrels.  He “bagged” six or seven that day; all I did was drop a .22 shell from my single shot never knowing it had been loaded into the snow.  He was angry with me, but he got over it and we had a rather uneventful day.

He had been working all week, once, and had been skinning squirrels (or was it rabbits, I can’t really remember), but Mom asked me to go downstairs to the basement and help.  I went to see what was going on.  As soon as I saw my step-dad start skinning what ever it was, I got real sick– I became nauseus over what I saw– ran upstairs and tossed.  Right into the tub!  I hit the bathroom door, threw it open, and before I could kneel down, I lost it!  Mom came over and rubbed my back.  She asked me if I was okay.  I just shook my head and remained there for a while.

I felt really bad about it, but what could I do?  I wanted to take my life that night because of his perception of me.  I laid in bed, contemplating what to do, and whether or not I would see the light of day, and school, the next morning.  I woke up.  I was alive!  But I suffered from something dark, deep and unsure.  I went to school as if nothing happened, and I made it through, looking forward to Geometry and Chemistry.

Months later, as I was helping Mom clean out the fridge, I noticed something that looked like a prescription.  I made a mental note and kept it there, where I found it.  After the task-at-hand had been dealt with, and they were out the next day taking care of bills and groceries, I got back to the prescription and read it.  It was for a friend of my sister’s (I have three) and I did what the little box had said.  Once I realized what was going on, my body started feeling different, and good at the same time, with little changes here and there…  I began to blossom and develop a more female look to my body.  I was reeling at how calm and sure of myself I had become!  I began borrowing Mom’s bras and panties, then onto my sister’s jeans and undergarments– I felt alive!– and with what I was going through at school, at home, and through various difficulties, I understood that this was happening for a reason.

Once I started running low on them, I called my sister’s friend and asked if she could get me more.  She told me about the doctor and that she’d have to renew the ‘script.  I said I had a few more days worth left and I needed them soon.  She contacted the doctor and got right in.  About a week later, I got the meds, never realizing they were hormones.  I kept this up for about a year, and she was happy to oblige, but when she moved away, I had no source.  I started growing facial hair, and had my first soul patch at 16, a short goatee ay 17, and a mustache at 18 with gray hair in my beard and soul patch.

I was devastated over what happened!  No more meds!  What was I to do?  I thought it would be okay, but after my body started rejecting the femme proportions and the blossoming, it fought even harder to reverse the effects!  I wanted to remain, but I had no way to do so…

Throughout this year, I was experimenting sexually.  I had a friend that his parents were cool, at least I liked them, and he offered a sleep-over almost every weekend, if I had no plans, I’d go.  We went into his dad’s room and I became aroused, he saw I was and he did too.  We were intimate.  We even talked about what this was.  He told me, kissing me in the neck, that we were a couple.  We couldn’t say anything, of course, but I loved the way it made me feel; I thought, for the longest time, I was bi-sexual– I dated girls, but never was truly intimate– but had multiple male partners, sometimes many at once.  Couldn’t tell anyone about it, rumors would start…

As my hormones were backfiring and slugging my body back into a more male shape, I began getting incredible, bowl-you-over cramps in my abdomen and around my hips, thighs and knees.  I couldn’t understand why.  I had this excruciating cramp in my abdomen this one time, and thought I was constipated– I wasn’t!– it seems I had had my first period…  Not having the proper womanly parts, this seemed odd at best.  My belly twisted and contorted and it went on for about a week or so.  I would wipe and have to bathe, I thought I was going to die.  I told Mom about it, the bleeding (not the other) and we went to the doctor.  I had my first colonoscopy!  Nothing seemed wrong, but with the blood tests, my white count was almost 3x higher than  my red!  He mentioned that this usually occurs in girls/women who have their periods.  I just laughed it off (Mom was still in the room); then I knew for sure!

It wasn’t long after that I began experiencing really dark thoughts and contemplating suicide.  I could see myself taking a knife and running it across the wrinkles and folds of various teachers, friends and animals.  I never acted upon them, but it really began disturbing me.  I’d have intimacy issues with my male partners and only practiced catching (not oral).  I was beginning to think I was messed up emotionally, as I’d usually cry or become enraged after I’d get home, bathe with exceptionally hot water, and most of the time, scrub until I drew blood.  I was a shadow of my former wonderful self!

I stopped all my gay relationships after almost another year and began pursuing females aggressively.  Flirting was like a game to me and once I was in, I couldn’t bring myself to be intimate with them– not at all– though I loved when we mutually groped.  It was like I was in Heaven, even for that little while!  I was also noticing my aggression in more of my everyday activities.  I even tried out for the junior high football team.  I was on the defensive line and one of my best friends was on offense and paired up with me. I lowered my shoulder (like coach said), stepped into my attacker (like coach said), grabbed the opponent with my hands near his hips (one on each side, like coach said), and tossed him over my head.  I got the quarterback and knocked him down, ending that practice.  Chris was lying on the ground, but not moving and struggling to breathe.  Coach and a trainer came over, game him CPR and he began to breathe again.  Coach told me to “… save that for the game!  We need men like you on the team– you’ve got moves, kid– now hit the showers!”

About a week later, I quit.  I has a season pass to the high school games, a jersey with my initials on it (couldn’t put names on them) and was not happy about possibly hurting another player, friend or not.  I never used the season pass.  Football had scared me for a while.

Eventually, I hooked up with the high school band director’s daughter, just a little older than me, and we hit it off great.  I met her parents at the high school, in her dad’s office, and her little brother, who was going to be finishing junior high this year.  I never felt so alive and welcome with any family before!  I wanted to make the most of it.  In drama class, my instructor never allowed me to sing, though I sang well (enough to be in church choir) and act in but two plays:  William Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” as Caliban and in a two-night production of a story that one of my struggling gay friends had written, that I assisted turning into a play.  Caliban was rather easy for me to do, I drew on my aggression and spoke with a mix of a dark scratchy voice and a British accent.  The audience loved it!  My instructor loathed it!  She said I had seen it on TV or something and you never practiced it!  I rudely informed her I was there for every rehearsal and dress rehearsal– you never even remembered my name and you told me I’d never act!– needless to say, I got the play recognized in the local paper and critiqued well.  Part of it read:  “Caliban, one of the least popular characters in any of Shakespeare’s plays, was highly well done by a thespian who knows his art.  Robert Mussell is that thespian and he performed Caliban, in Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” with such charm, believability and grace, that it was something to behold.  …  This reviewer hopes this is one of Mr Mussell’s dreams, as he can go far as an actor. …”  Once I found it in the paper the next day, I cut it out, ran to the office at school before classes, and made 200 copies!  Before my drama instructor came in, I had all 200 posted and the blurb highlighted all around the room!  The play was a success, and my portrayal was awesome!  She only saw me as a lucky little bastard “… who will never get my approval for any other plays, as long as I’m teaching!”  Then she said more derogatory stuff about me, about the other actors/actresses, and that she’d rather be acting on Broadway.

I was fed up!  I went to the principal and told him of the dilemma with her.  Even bringing a few classmates for witnesses and several copies of the review.  He told me that he had read the review and loved the fact I did so well.  I told him I practiced on the voice and how to do it so I wouldn’t strain it.  We explained this was not a social call, but a formal complaint.  He pulled out a notepad and began jotting down what we all had said about the drama instructor and how she wanted to leave to be on Broadway.  The principal was not thrilled, and set into motion getting her fired.  We had gone to lunch or our next class; we were late, but had passes.  When we went back the next day for class, a substitute was in her stead!  Mission Accomplished!

I wanted to tell her off so bad, I managed to find her address and rode my bike to her place, on that next Saturday.  When I got there, a moving van was there.  I stepped inside and asked to see her.  One of the movers told me and I went to see.  She was crying, sobbing was more it, and never heard me enter the little den where she sat.  I started in with Caliban, the one entrance speech where the shipwrecked throng meet him.  She turned and spoke.  Through it all, she said she was sorry, she didn’t realize no one knew she was acting when she went on a tirade, and was totally in the wrong.  I told her that she hurt me, my classmates and the principal– to say something like this was just inexcusable– and that’s what got her fired.  I left.  Nothing more to be done…  After I got home, I went to my room and sank into a deep funk– I ruined someone’s life– what have I done!?  I never knew. …

Sunday hit and I was not ready.  I stayed up far too long to catch the bus for Sunday school.  I hated the church I went to because the pastor was more interested in making public appearances and preaching on TV (on one of the local channels), than being a friendly man of God.  Apparently he hated children.  I got home and started playing on my C64 and was called for dinner, it was a quite a while from home and ending with dinner; a few hours at least.  I told Mom of church and that I refused to continue to go because of the pastor; he’s not a friendly man.  He yelled at me in the parking lot.  I didn’t really do anything but mock him as he talked; I mouthed all of his words and the live camera caught it.  The phones were ringing off the hook and he scolded me to never do that again…  Mom agreed and saw him later in the week, I was at school.  I got into a fight with a classmate because of a sexually-charged comment he had made to my girlfriend at the time.  I jumped over a column of desks, snatched him up by his shirt collar and belt, tossed him into the hallway and proceeded to beat him senseless.

I blacked out at the first punch, so I don’t really know what happened.  All I know was that the six strongest instructors actually had a hard time pulling me off him.  I was hit in the face and then dragged away.  The student had a broken nose, one severely bruised and one broken eye socket, blood was trickling out of his nose, eyes, ears and mouth.  I think I made him swallow some of his teeth; his tongue was cut, too.  His collarbone, on the left side, was fractured and his jaw was broken in four places.  I never really knew what happened…  I found out after I had gotten out of detention and went to the hospital, where he had his jaw wired shut and taking morphine from a pump to ease his pain.

I wondered why I had done that.  Why had I blacked out?  Why did I almost kill that kid?  I realized he didn’t mean it, he was just being mean, but that was a day or two later…  I kept questioning my motivations, my aggression, my internal turmoil.  I was festering and finding myself in the dark places in my mind, contemplating drinking some drain cleaner to suffer as I died…  I wanted, in the worst possible way, to hurt myself as I hurt him.  I started searching for some kind of poison in the kitchen and came across something else.  I grabbed it and opened it up.  I never knew what I drank, but I ended up in the hospital, had my stomach pumped, and in a room, under surveillance.

I hated being in there, but I knew something had to change.  I looked inside and figured it had something to do with chemicals, but I didn’t know enough about biology and anatomy to even hypothesize an answer.  The nurse came in to check on me.  I asked her to ask the doctor to run a blood test to check for everything.  I thought they could do that.  She agreed and wrote a note in my documents.  I fell asleep.

I was awakened by the doctor and he requested the tests.  They pulled six (if I remember correctly) vials of blood from my arm.  I waited impatiently until they results came…  I had too much testosterone in my system, and a couple of other hormones that were linked to muscle development and aggression.  It seemed I was hating everyone and everything, then I’d snap and create some kind of chaos, or go into some really livid, lucid scenes in my darkness places.  I never really knew what to do.

Mom suggested I get that guy some flowers and take them up myself.  She even drove me up to the hospital.  (This was after I got out and started some anti-androgens (at least that’s what I thought they were).)  I started on some anti-depression stuff too, but I never really knew– they were supposed to be ‘vitamins’– I hated taking pills.

I got to his room and knocked.  He answered with a ‘come in’.  As soon as I entered, he began to panic and spasm.  Even with the drugs I was on, and the sight of him in bandages and a partial body cast, I dropped the vase I was holding and ran.  I ran all the way home.  I never stopped that whole 5 or so miles.  I ran to my room and cried.  I did all that?!  Someone’s got to stop me!!!

After nearly finishing high school, and Mom being my biggest role model, she was stricken with bone cancer.  I didn’t realize until she had passed, just how much she truly meant to me.  I wanted her back!  I lost her at 17.  She was 50.  She was at home, on a morphine pump, to keep her pain down.  I remember just how vibrant and alive she looked just a few months ago!  She had been panting like a dog for hours as I walked in her makeshift bedroom.  My sisters, a doctor and my step-dad were gathered around her bed.  My buddy told me of his play at school.  He was one of the leads!  My sister Tina gave me the money to go.  He wanted me to go to the aftershow party, I couldn’t.  My mother passed while I sat, and just inside the 2nd Act, 9:17 PM.  September 28, 1988.  I knew something was wrong.  After the play commenced, I ran home, full speed, the 3 or 3 1/2 miles home from the high school.

As soon as I got there, there was a coroner’s wagon (like an ambulance) and a couple of guys inside the house.  I went in, and wanted to see Mom again!  I was ushered out; my family didn’t want me to see her that way.  I heard the zipper on the body bag and I lost it:  I cried so hard my eyes, neck, sides and legs hurt.  I couldn’t help it; my role model was gone!  I loved her so much…!

From that point on, I became introverted and got off all of the medication.  I took my mother’s death hard.  Maybe harder than anyone ever could!  After that Thanksgiving, I sank into the worst depression I had ever been in.  My step-dad was no help either…  I told him to “F-Off!” and he proceeded to beat me down.  I hit him once and he stopped; I thought I killed him.  Tina lived upstairs and called 911 to get an ambulance.  I moved in with her and he went to the hospital to recuperate.

While I started living there, I found Tina’s birth control pills.  I started taking them slowly, to see what they did.  I also told Tina of the prescription I found in the fridge downstairs years ago and that I was taking them.  I also told her that they made me feel good about myself and loving and caring.  She told me those were her friends hormones, for her hormone therapy prior to her getting pregnant!  Again, I never knew.  She started wondering about those pills and why they were disappearing…  She had just had her second child, and the pills helped her cope with the post-partum.  I never really knew all that…  Just when she was away and her children (2 wonderful beautiful girls), I would sneak her clothing and wear it, pose like I was in a magazine, and parade around in it around her bedroom.  I didn’t want to disturb the sleeping girls in their bedroom.  I did have to hop out to the bathroom and go, and then Tina came in from a party night.  Good thing she was alone!  I was still in the bathroom and she went looking for me…  I knocked on the door and she opened it.  She was astonished and taken aback that I was wearing her clothes, they fit well, and I didn’t really seem to mind.  I told her, once I put on women’s clothes, I feel better.  She never told anyone; she considered me a fruit…  (Oh how wrong she was!)

After this little stint, I had one at my other sister’s house, Cindy, and somehow managed for her to hate me.  Or at the very least, misunderstand me…  I came home from school, exhausted, psyching myself up as if I’m acting, and wanted to slip into something more appropriate for my down time.  There’s no locks on any of the bedroom doors upstairs, so my nieces kept trying to get in while I was changing.  The youngest, just about 3 or 4, I picked up, placed her sidesaddle on my lap and asked her to not “… come in right now, I was dressing.”  I set her back down and she left.  I got dressed and never gave it a second thought.  The following day, after school, a campus officer was there and a case worker from DCF (Dept. of Children and Families) showed up and told me that I could not stay, I had to leave the premises, and that there’s going to be an investigation into alleged child sexual assault!  “I never touched her!”  “I placed her on my lap, sidesaddle, and told her not to open the door while I’m changing.  I set her down and that was that!  Nothing else happened.  How am I supposed to do this if I’m only with her for 20 seconds tops!?”  The officer told me:  “That’s not what we’re here to find out, I’m here to arrest you.”  The case worker piped up:  “No.  Don’t arrest him.”  After I left, I was told that the case worker told the cop to get some questions and a polygraph tester and set me up with it.  I told a mutual friend of my plight and he told me to talk to another friend; his grandparents were awesome!  I stayed there for a while, until my polygraph test day came.

I drank a lot of Mountain Dew back then, after I sobered up and quit smoking!  I had found God and that cured me!  LOL  From the drinking and smoking, at least.  I was nervous, but the polygraph examiner strapped me in and asked a series of questions to test the machine.  Those went well.  The questions he asked were all about me, my address and the scene about my youngest niece.  After close consideration, the proctor said I passed, all questions were answered truthfully.  No sexual abuse.  It was then that I realized someone had said my name to her, she pointed to herself, down there, and told mommy it hurt.  I think all she had was a diaper rash, or a little urine irritation (children get that) and was not happy about it.  Since Cindy decided to throw caution to the wind, go around me, and never ask me what happened, we had a falling out for years.

I eventually graduated high school.  With honors.  Then onto college.  Much of college was classes and interaction with other students.  I got into role-playing games then, and still love them now.  ‘Cyberpunk’ and ‘Dungeons & Dragons’ were the two I had the most contact with then.  College started and ended with fear.  I quit because of a girl’s interest in me.  I didn’t want a relationship and I wasn’t sure what to do.  She was cute, from Iowa, and wanted to know more about role-playing games…  That totally scared me!

I made my way to Iowa, myself, and met some new friends.  One was bi and his brother was straight.  I also met a guy at a homeless shelter who was formerly in the Army and I liked him.  I hung around him for quite some time, until he found a gal he wanted to be with.  She had two kids and a twin sister.  She had a crush on me.  He told me she wanted to meet me and possibly date me.  Scared and unsure, I said a cautious yes.  I met her, and I had no clean clothing available.  She offered some clothes that looked male, but weren’t.  I could tell, not sure if anyone else could…

I showered and put on the fresh clothes.  I felt human again!  We, as a group, went out to eat and she was flirting with me heavily; she really liked me.  We all got back to the apartment they sisters shared and after the children were put to bed, the pairs went to work.  I had the most earth-shattering ground-breaking intercourse and foreplay that I had never experienced before!  She agreed with that.  She told me I had done things to her that no man had ever done before!  I told her I was a virgin.  She looked at me like I was some kind of idiot.  You were a virgin?  I took your virginity?!  The simple answer:  yes.  I never knew virgins were so skilled…  All I could tell her is that I wanted to taste her whole body, and I did, but never knew it would be so pleasurable for you…  She hugged me and had an orgasm in my arms.  Wow!

When she broke up with me a week later to go out with my other friend’s brother, I was struck down!  My resolve was shattered.  My feelings ripped out of my chest, thrown on the ground, stomped on and kicked, then drenched in lighter fluid and burned…  (Well that’s how it felt, anyway!)  At this point, I still wanted to marry her; something that was as foreign to me as France or Greece.  I wrote a poem.  If you ever think about me, read the poem and I’ll be there.  We met up again, a year later, and got back together.  This time, I told her I wasn’t ready.  I needed time to think, to understand, to realize what it is that I needed in my life.  “Knowing you were in my life, for the times we shared, as one, thrilled and understood, will always be in my heart.  …  I will always love you.”

We parted ways, I eventually made a few more girlfriends, all the while buying, finding and wearing women’s clothes.  I did it at home, and one of them found the clothes.  I told her it was from my sister.  She accidentally sent me a box of her packed clothes.  She believed it, but I hated to lie to her…  I eventually ended up in Clinton, IA.  Here I met a few gay friends and their straight friends, who played role-playing games, and had a club of about 6 founding members, and a group of, at most, about 30 or so.  I asked to join and was accepted immediately.  There were dues, but it all went to rent.  I eventually met an odd pair, couple was more like it.  The guy, Andy was a little absent-minded, but a good guy.  His girlfriend was a little more receptive when creating characters; I assisted them both.  A few times they would show up; after Andy got off work.  He worked in the kitchen of a local hotel, Ramada Inn.

A few weeks passed and Gina was having some difficulties with Andy and wanted me to come over.  Since that night I walked to the club, and I had intended to stay at the club overnight, I thought I’d help her and see what could be done.  I grabbed my books and stuff and went.  We went to South Clinton, nowhere near her house.  She showed me the house she grew up in and a few other sites…  We went to the levy near what seemed a large stream, parked, and she fumbled for a cigarette.  At least I thought it was one…  We started talking and passing her cigarette back and forth.  Eventually, we made it back to Andy’s apartment.  She slid in, hand in my hand, and pulled me inside.  We started kissing and she looked in to see Andy sprawled on the living room floor.  We carefully made our way to the sofa, quietly got undressed and began our little escapade.  She was still with Andy at the time and told him the next day.  He was angry, but had to go to work.  When he got back, they talked and remained friends.

There were times in Gina’s and my relationship that I wore her clothes.  I think she suspected, but she never hinted that she knew.  We had a falling out, and she left to cool off.  A few hours later Gina came back, a little perturbed, and went to the bathroom.  She walked in on me, dressed in her bra and panties, putting on some lipstick!  What a development!  I told her to relax, she stormed out to the living room and threw herself on the sofa.  I took off her undergarments, told her I enjoyed wearing women’s clothes, “… they make me feel comfortable”, and she began to accept that.  I went back to the bathroom, took off the lipstick (it was too red anyway) and came back out, nude.  She and I reconciled her surprise and my embarrassment on the sofa…  Eventually, she went back to Andy, then my gaming buddy Dave, then to another friend I met at the local community college, Tim.  We all loved karaoke and began doing that as a group…  Then I met Katie.

Katie was (and still is) the mother of my two boys, and got her pregnant with our first.  Fighting the urges I had with my CD; I didn’t know her dad was gay, she never told me until I met him.  I met her gay father and figured I’d be okay around him; truth was, I was!  We had a ton of things in common, but so did his daughter and me.  We laughed.  We joked, played pool, drank some…  I liked her dad.  Katie and I took it slow and we broke up before we had our first, but we got back together and shared an apartment.  She got pregnant; I was so happy!

We moved to Florida and had our first.  I was still struggling with my gender identity when I hooked up with a manager at my work (a fast food joint) and asked her if she had room for us.  She said she did and we moved in, I worked, and brought home more money than I did when we were not there.  We met her family, her lover, her friend and her lover, her brother and his lover, and a couple of friends who were also gay.  Aside from her parents, we were the only straight couple in the house.  I knew something was up and it was me.  We started having difficulties, moved into the friend’s place, of the gal manager’s who was also gay.  She was cool, I moved in with her, began talking to her about where I fit in, and she suggested that I was bi- leaning toward hetero-.  She also began taking a shine to me, like a brother she never had.  I loved that about her– she didn’t have any qualms about my gender status– and I felt loved for the first time, properly loved.

My fiancee moved in and we shared a smallish room.  All I had was a few clothes, a SNES, a C64 color monitor, and some games.  She had lots of clothes!  I worked locally and she did not.  We managed to have another child and she left for Ft. Lauderdale without me, due to a law issue, her pregnancy and the adoption agency who adopted our first.  I went to see her after I tried to commit suicide three more times, medicated, then released…  I was considered “disabled” by the county and struggled to find her again.  I got a tip she moved back into my former manager’s house.  I got there and I couldn’t stand to not be around her.  I became obsessed.  The police were called and I was escorted away, back to the place for ‘crazies and nutjobs’ who were going to commit suicide.  I said I was going to ram the pen I have into my chest to die, and that’s where he took me.  He was a nice guy, overall.

—–

During all of this, I have come to realize that my doubts and misgivings are my own, but that I have this inner turmoil, an inner cacophony that’s resonates dissonance with every note, and shrill voices of a demon’s choir.  I realize that there’s more to anyone than mere looks; there’s a person in there, somewhere, trying to get out, and that person is someone who is tolerant and knows what to do with what life throws your way.  I know where I’ve come from and where I will be going…  This is the trials and tribulations of the transgender!

I have chosen a name:  Robynn Penelope!  I am woman!  I don’t roar! LOL  I love and I listen!  I act and I react!  This is me, and who I am, and those people who cannot understand, please stand aside.  Let the REAL ME step forth!

I have an appointment to make, people to talk to and this is where my journey begins.  Let’s walk together.

[Edited due to a mix up in some of the History.  Katie informed me (we’re still friends) that some information was wrong.  The portion about Gina, which had been omitted entirely, I had forgotten to include, I thought dealt with Katie.  This is now clarified.  ~Robynn]

A Whole Different Approach (I Never Thought About)

Lilly, from Mexico, writes to me about what she feels should be done for my situation…

Here’s the complete e-mail…

Saturday 18, August, 2012. 23:40

Dear Aryu, it seems you are really in a somber mood right now,,, But please consider that it will change soon… We have to learn to wait for a while, not to fall in desperation.
You are quite right in relation to the dement belief that there can only be 2 genders, who are suppoused to be complementary. Is true that you need 2 different sets of organs to reproduce, but, if you are having loving relations without that purpose, then there is no need for tha specialized organic relation.
I’m suppousing that you and your girl friend are not inerested now in having children. Are you? In that case, tell her that you want to please her having erotic sensual relations in the way she likes you better. And please try to do it: You can play the gentle young boy she likes, But tell her that then she has to accept that you also like being pretty as she is, and that she must allow you to look like her some times, in sure protected conditions: We know that people is very upset by finding that we are not in the classical classification they expect.

Try also to look like a quiet young man to your landlord, until you are able to live the way you want, in some other place. In the meantime, inside your home you are free to be the way you are.  Do you live with your girlfriend? Then you have to tell her that you want to do arrangements with her in such a way that she can be happy seeing the young guy she met, but some other times, slowly, go changing your appearance while being very kind to her, so she realizes that you are nicer to her as a girl, and she can have more pleasure with you around, while you are every time a little more a pretty girl like her.
Slowly by slsowly, little by little, as long as she is happy, she won’t mind your little almost unnoticed changes. And even when she realizes them, she will be happy and content with no complaints.

But do not do much talking about it:  Words are traps, and lead to crazy arguments and useless fights. Just be what you want , little by little, and every time, make it clear to her, in practice, without words, that she is more happy and content with you as the person you want to be. But never try to explain to anyone that you want to be “different”, that “much”, for that genrates an alert inanyone. Even if you  tell your office or job friends that you want to quit that kind of a job to try another very different, like going to the sea as a mariner, also all will be obssesed with the idea: Definitions create images, and people is so used to what they know that if you tell them of a change, they almost think is already done. Don’t talk, do not explain nothing to nobody: You do not have any obligation to explain your behaviour. Just little by little, go changing to what you like. If they ask or comment, give them a look of strange idea, smile and leave withou any comments: What? You crazy? Tha’s what you should telle them with gestures. NEVER EXPLAIN! Show them that nothing wrong is happening, that THEY are the ones going nuts.

So, Don’t try to convince her by talking, even less all the way in just one talk. Just tell her that whenever she likes to have you like the boy she likes, you will be, to please her. For you love her.  And slowly, go changing a little thing at a time, and everytime she notices it and says something about it, be very nice to her, give her all the love you can, so she can little by little realize that you give her more love and pleasure when you are the girl or person you want to be.

Tell her that in the dark, while making love, it doesn’t matter how you look, but how she feels you. And just try to make love to her like a sensual girl: one day, she might discover that she can love and be loved by a girl, her well known friend as ever, who can love her in two forms, but always with love, passion and care.

And also, do not think much on what progress you are doing. Better, notice the nice things you have now, and how you can make them look better, so you enjoy whatever you are now, and stop longing for something that takes time to build, naturly or artificially. Thinking becomes obsession, as thoughts are also beliefs in the mind, illusions of reality, that you start seeing in circles, over and over, and after a while you are out of reality and a prisioner of that thought.

Just feel your body, as much as possible. And feel it as the body of the pretty woman you know you are and you want to be. If you dont look into a mirror, it doesn’t matter how you are dressed or how do you look, YOU’LL KNOW YOU ARE  THAT DESIRED PRETTY GIRL.

JUST FEEL YOUR BODY. The way yoiu want it.
And the body will be more and more that way you feel it.

Feeling your body makes you stop worrying.
Then you will see more clearly your surroundings and will know better how to deal with persons who still can not understand human beings in their multiple mnanifestations.

Please, take care and be happy.

Yours, truly, as they used to say,
Lilly

Forgive my english, I’m from Mexico. Not far away form the border.

—–

I honestly believe this could work for my situation, as based on my Open Letter…  This method may work, but it seems to be prolonging what I feel I need to accomplish…

Lilly does make some very good points:  not talking too much (that’s one of my errors… >_<); don’t use convincing dialogue (I tried it and that didn’t seem to work, either… >_<); feeling what my body says to me (I had not thought of that!, but I think it might be too late… U_U)…

From her advice, I think there’s a common certainty that can, and should, work:  show, but not show; touch, but not touch; and speak, but not speak.  Here’s what I’ve learned from this e-mail:  “show, but not show” to me means that the metamorphosis can and will be a long process, showing itself as I progress; “touch, but not touch” explains that just a gentle touch can mean volumes to my partner, and that it could have lasting beneficial effects on the relationship we’ve put years into; “speak, but not speak” is more of a philosophy toward whatever the situation brings, at home and/or away, while I’m working through my metamorphosis, where I speak little and use body language and simple gestures to get my point across.

I think that there’s going to be more to it than I had hoped, at least from a relationship standpoint, but I also believe that once I set forth on the chosen path, I cannot turn back and be miserable.  She will understand, in time, or she will continue to question herself and her motives.  “Did I drive him away?”  “What did I do to deserve this?”  The correct answer is:  “nothing”.  Nothing on both counts!

The one thing that drives me nuts right now, is that she’ll have a nice calm demeanor, then she snaps and starts yelling and screaming at me.  Then back to the quiet little mouse…  I think she’s got a split personality.  She can’t look people in the eye when she’s angry, always an ear or chin or to the side somewhere, and come right up to me.  She acts more mannish than I do femme most of the time.  It’s one of the qualities I found attractive in her, and she seems to be in complete denial about my transition.

What’s also feels demeaning, she keeps taking the clothes I’ve purchased so I can CD.  Bras, panties, certain tops and a pair of nice skorts, they’re all missing or destroyed!  She’s even taken my pantyhose, shredded them one day while I was away, and I found them in the trash!

Open Letter to a SO that’s Not Supportive

During a tirade with my former SO, I decided that my anger and anti-SO sentiment needed to be quelled.  I wrote this as a way to get the pain and the heartache out.  In its entirety, it’s here.   I do understand that not everything in this letter may pertain to your situation, and some SOs are more forgiving than others, so be that as it may, this letter represents the notion of allowing an out through peaceful means, and is not intended or construed to be markedly evil and callus.

Thank you for your perusal…  Here’s the letter.

—–

Dear <name>;

I came out to you because of the history we share together, through all of the trials and tribulations, the heartaches and pain, but I felt that I was never truthful to you.  Not after all of these years with your health scares and surgeries to eliminate those tumors and such that were taking away your life.

I was there, completely for you, driving you to and from your appointments, to and from your check ups, to and from hospital visits, never leaving your side (unless I had to because of a surgery).  I never left the waiting room; I stayed put until you came back to me.

I love you with every fiber in my being and when you tell me that I don’t and that you could never love me the way I need to be, to correct the problems I face and to support me in my greatest time of need, how selfish are you now to push me aside and tell me I’m nothing more than “confused”.

I must deal with these problems, as they come, no matter how they come.  I wanted you to help me through this as I did for you.  You tell me that If I loved you, I wouldn’t.  How dare you tell me that!  You never knew the depressions and hurt I’ve caused, the lies I told because I had to act a certain way, because of how society branded me!  I nearly died that last time I tried to commit suicide and you brought me back:  for that I gained a little more respect for you in my time of need.

Now that I’ve decided that I need to go through my life, living as I need to, not as society branded me, I feel that you do love me, but cannot come to grips with this life-changing decision.  It not just changes you life, it changes mine, too, and without your support, I want to crawl into a hole and die!  It’s as if you hate me for being honest with you.  Not only does that hurt, it makes me feel that you never respected me, never really loved me, and you’re tied to the notion that people are either “male” or “female” because of their genitalia!

You won’t cope with with my dilemmas of mind and soul.  You refuse to see it from my point of view; if the tables were turned, I see it for what it was, and not for what I wanted it to remain.  I lost you as a confidant, a friend, a care-giver, a mutual ally, and someone I truly respected.  Because you refuse to see it any other way, and have threatened to have me thrown out of the house, I feel we have nothing else to say!  I am making a stand for my sexuality, and my life, and you can take it or leave it.  This has never been your decision, it has always been mine, alone.  I wanted to be able to tell the <gender> I love that I wanted to do this, explain in great detail what was going through my mind, and the research that led up to this point, but alas, that’s just not to be!

I thought I had your respect.  I thought, at the very least, you’d  lend me some moral and emotional support.  You don’t even want to do that, because of you falling in love with a <writer’s gender>.  You make it so difficult for me to, even now with your tirades and yelling, to respect you and to love you; things I never want to give up.  You’ve given up on me as soon as I told you what I wanted to do, and you slammed the door in my face, kicked me to the curb and denied even our friendship, all because you want me to live the lie!

I can’t do that anymore!  You mean more to me than Life itself!  By saying these cruel and ignorant things only makes me wonder  just what kind of <gender> you truly are!  If you were anything like the <gender> I fell in love with so many years ago, you’d respect me and love me:  no matter what I looked like!

I don’t know where to go.  I have no living relatives locally.  I need to find shelter in order to make my way in society as best I can, in the direction I am going.  I really want this, and by yelling and screaming at me, and crying to tell me all of those wonderful, but cruel, things is just making me want to jump off the planet, never to be found!

I don’t know where to end this.  I loved you for oh so long and now you’re turning your back on me.  What should I do?  I’m going to start on my path– the only one I can take– and start anew, with renewed self-confidence and love.  I’ll find someone who will respect me for who I am, and not what my society dictated what my gender is.

 

With all my love,

~Robynn

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I signed the letter, just because this could be considered a “Dear John” or “Dear Jane” letter, and wanted it to show that I still have affection for my SO, though she refuses to agree with my methods and decision.

 

I love you all.