Negativity

Negativity is like a disease. You can catch it from others. Persistent anger, sadness, jealousy, or envy is just not conducive to living a happy and healthy life. But no matter how positive you are, you can (and will) come across negative individuals. These people, if they become close to you, can bring some of their negativity into your life.

My mother is negative.

She always found little ways to tear me down. If I had good news, or was happy about something, she would always seem dubious about it's authenticity, or indicated in some way that it wouldn't last. She rarely had a kind word to say about anybody, yet was always worried about their opinion of her. She wasn't a mean person by any means. She seemed to have trouble in seeing the positive about anyone or anything. It was hard growing up with a parent like that. My father was the epitome of neutral, and rarely gave his opinion on anything. I grew up with what seemed like a black cloud over my head. Once I moved out of my parents' house, I began to see the truth.

My first real love (Millie) was also negative. 

When things were going good for us, and we were getting along, she would get afraid of being too close. She would purposely mess up our relationship. She was afraid I would hurt her, although I never did. She stood me up more times than I could count, and it was a toss-up if she would call when she said she would. At one point, we stayed overnight at a motel, to get one night of togetherness. (We both lived with our parents at the time, and hers did their best to keep a close eye on her. No, we were both in our early 20's.) She ended up abandoning me there. When I was asleep, she snuck out. Upon hearing the door close, I woke up. I ran after her car with no shoes on, begging her not to leave. I ended up stepping in glass, cutting my feet. I then realized that I had left the keys in the motel room! Oh, fun. I tried and tried with her, trying to make it work, because I really loved her. In hindsight, I may have been too forgiving. She found me years after we broke up (she just disappeared on me for a month), and apologized for the way she had treated me. She was so afraid that I would hurt her in some way, but the only hurtful one in the relationship was her.

 

I had a coworker who was negative.

This lady was perpetually unhappy. She had been fired from so many employers in our field, but for some reason, my employer hired her anyway. She tried to tear me down for eight long years. They eventually made me the shift supervisor, to her endless chagrin. She tried to get me in trouble, tried to get me to quit, and tried to get other coworkers against me. I wasn't the only one she had a problem with, oh no. But I did seem to be her main target, since I was in charge of her, yet she was better at her job than I was (coughnotreallycough), and she had seniority (technically true, but it meant very little in her case). There was one point where she was criticizing, no... insulting her husband, calling him a dirtbag or a scumbag, and that he only cared about himself. He had gone into a diabetic coma and was in the hospital. He died right around the time she was saying these things about him. She broke down crying, saying, "And I said all those things to him, and about him, and then he died!" I thought maybe that would've changed her attitude right then and there. Poor guy. A few days later, she was back to her usual tirades and schemes.

And then I ended up marrying someone who was (is) very negative.

At first, she didn't seem that way (and neither did Millie, now that I think of it). She just seemed... damaged. And by golly, it was me who was going to fix her and make her happy again! Yeah, right. She would actually say that hate causes CANCER. That's right, not that hate *is* a cancer, but it'll make you get cancer. Yet, let's see... she hates me, she hates Nikki, she hates my mother, she hates my brother and sister, she hates anyone LGBT, and she hates anyone who is not a Christian. That's just for starters. When she's upset, she tries to upset others. "Misery loves company" should be her motto. She won't let my daughter talk to me. It's been three years since I've heard her voice.

And now...?

Today, I am mostly free from negative people and situations. Not all of us are so lucky. Keep in mind that by no means is everything butterflies and daffodils. Life is life. To even talk about the people above, can be considered a negative thing in itself.

But to ruled over by sadness, anger, or depression, is just harmful to the soul, the body, everything.

Notice that I did say "mostly." There is someone who is having a negative impact on us and our family. I harbor no ill will towards this person, but I wish and pray to the God and Goddess that this person would just stop. I believe this friend is mostly a positive person, and I don't think they realize what a negative impact they're having on this household.

Largely because of this person, Nikki and I argue. Yes, sometimes it's in front of the kids, or they overhear it. That makes me sad, but I will admit I act in a brash manner when I get upset, and then I regret it later. Yes, we have our problems, and no, it is not only because of this friend. But they exacerbate the problems, and rub salt in the wounds.

Let us work it out. Let us be in harmony, love, and peace again. I know you're mad at me, but let it be. Be a friend without causing all this chaos. You think you're being positive, but the end result of your actions is:

Negativity.

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Meet Rachel, a Transgender Child

I've been very privileged to meet some transgender children since moving to Arizona. Today I'll talk about one of them. Her name is Rachel and she's nine years old. Despite having short hair (I'll get to that), she looks like a girl, and acts like one. If you saw the attitude, the spunk, that this girl gives off, well you should not doubt for a second that she's indeed female. Her mother's name is Amy (Love the name! Ha!), and she's simply a fantabulous mom, not only to realize who and what Rachel is, but to allow her to be who she wants to be. In this day and age, when parents still pressure their kids to take on a certain profession, this is simply amazing.

Savannah, Rachel, and Sarah.

I got a chance to play a sort of bodyguard for Rachel twice already. The first time was when I met them at Venessia's house, mother to Josie Romero, another transgender child. There was another mother there with a FTM trans-child named Emerson. We were all swimming in a community pool (well, okay, I was the only ADULT in the pool), and Rachel was in the deep end, and too tired too swim. I dragged her over to the side, and almost went under myself in the process! My oldest daughter, Sarah, took to Rachel immediately. Savannah really likes her as well. Skylar had fun playing with Rachel's little sister, Zoey. They're less than a year apart in age.

Last weekend, me, Nikki and the kids had the pleasure of attending a party for Zoey's 5th birthday. Great fun was had by all, though there was one little episode at the playground that really hit home for me. I was playing with Skylar, who was pretending to drive her "truck" to the grocery store and McDonald's. I overheard one boy tell Rachel that she's a boy, and he was calling her by her old name. I told him to knock it off, that Rachel is a girl, and you're going to hurt her feelings. My older daughters made me so proud. They told him that Rachel was born as a boy, but she's a girl inside, and it's what's inside that counts. I wanted to cry. (By the way, though Nikki and I have taught them about transsexuals, they haven't been told that I can be counted among their number. Baby steps, baby steps...) I asked Rachel if she was okay, and to not listen to what the boy was saying. She just shrugged it off and said, "Yeah, I know." If she was upset at all, she sure wasn't letting it show. I've felt from the start that I want to protect Rachel. She may not need protecting, with such a wonderful mom, but she reminds me of myself, who I could've been at that age. I wasn't allowed to be who I wanted to be... who I desperately needed to be.

Rachel and Skylar, beautiful girls both!

I can identify with both Rachel and her mother in two very basic ways. I still wish to this day that I had a mom or dad (hey, how about both?) who were even half as understanding and accepting as Amy is. I can only imagine what it must be like to attend school as a girl, to be accepted for who I am, not some caricature that I had to invent just to survive. As far as Amy, well... I have an ex who will not let me see or talk to my daughter because she noticed certain things about me while I was transitioning to live full time as a woman.

Nikki and I were talking with Amy, and what she told me almost brought me to tears. I didn't admit to it at the time, but I was almost speechless to hear what Rachel has to deal with. She has visitation with her father every other week, for five days out of that week. This man flies into a rage if he sees the name "Rachel" on her homework, or if anyone calls her by that name. He insists on her getting her hair cut short like a boy, almost to the point of it being a buzz cut. In effect, she is in a prison when she's with her father. I feel so bad for her, and I can only imagine Amy's anger and frustration at not being able to help her child for that period of time. There is a custody case building up, and Amy's ex will be trying to discredit her by saying that she's confusing Rachel, endangering her life, and using her for some sort of revenge against him. Rachel has tried to reach out to her father again and again, but he misses the point entirely, each and every time. He says that the whole "Rachel thing" is Amy's way of "getting back at him" because of issues causing their failed marriage. His own parents have tried to explain to him that this child is female.

Skylar (what a face!), Sarah, Savannah, and Rachel.

Why is it that children can understand what adults can't? Why can my daughters understand that Rachel is a girl, but her own father can't? I'm asking these questions, but I know the answer. Prejudice and bias. At some point, we grow up and think we know everything. We make opinions and they rarely change. We try to simplify our life by thinking of everything in terms of black and white... right and wrong... male and female. A male could never be a female, and a female could never be a male. End of story, ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom. WRONG. Wake up, people! Listen to what your kids are telling you. Hell, you might actually learn something. If Amy and Venessia can do it, why can't other parents? Can you love them enough to simply listen, to reach beyond what you know and understand, and love them for who they are... not who you want them to be?

Sarah and Savannah up top, with Rachel chillin' down below.

Rachel attends school as a girl, she has crushes on boys, and hey... when she puts her hand on her hip and says, "I get to stay up until NINE o'clock," well... wake up and smell the perfume.

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Origins Revisited (Blast From the Past Entry)

I wrote this back in April of 2003 (wow it's been seven years). What I did was take a few of my looseleaf-written entries and type them up in Word. I completely forgot that I did this until a couple months ago, when I found the document on the hard drive of our older computer (we have two running, and the older one... well, it has trouble bringing up Google at times). I wrote the following as an intro to my "computerized diary." It contains some different info than in my intro on this blog, my first ever blog post. Keep in mind that when I wrote this, it had only been a couple months since I'd realized my transsexuality. The way I put things is not really the way I'd write about it today.

I've included a bunch of pictures of me from 1997. These are the first pictures of Amy as you all know me, and they've never before been put on the net! The quality is not really there, but hey, it was `97.

Oh yes, my name is not really "Amethyst." I decided not to go with that name, as it was a bit outlandish and porn star-sounding. It is my favorite gem though. So here we go...


This introduction is just to bring everyone up to date on my life, particularly my "adventures into femininity." The only question I have now is, where do I start? When did the first manifestation of this feminine side take place?

One could say that maybe it was around the age of eight years old. My parents were repainting our rooms, and they asked what color we would want. My brother picked blue for his room, and I picked purple. (And I got my desire, but this wouldn't go much further, as you will soon see.) Or... if that was not it, then it was definitely somewhere between ten and twelve years old, when I found some little girls' clothes in bags in the guest room closet. They were meant for my sister when she got older, handed down by a neighbor. I was pretty skinny for my age, but of course I could barely fit into these things, as they were for a five or six-year-old. I ended up ripping some of them by just trying to put them on or take them off. Now I was scared at what I had done (plus not understanding why I had tried them on in the first place, not realizing why I liked putting on all the little dresses and skirts). Not knowing what to do at this point, I put all the ripped clothes back, and I acted shocked when asked if I knew anything about it. My mother seemed to think that it could've only been a certain neighborhood kid that would do this, who used to visit me or my brother. That is, until she found a button off of one of the outfits under my bed. That darn button started all the trouble by falling off and rolling under there while I tried on the clothes. I was found out, and when asked why I had damaged the clothes (putting them on was not yet the question yet), I lied and actually made myself look like some kind of psycho kid, by saying that I had ripped the clothes out of pent-up frustration from school.

Nothing much else happened until some time in high school. At this point, my mother's things started to fit me, and I started trying on her dresses, nightgowns, pantyhose, etc...and what happened next? I was either stupid, or subconsciously wanted to be discovered and understood for liking this so much. This was not to be the case. I was discovered by my mother, laying in my bed asleep, wearing one of her nightgowns and a pair of pantyhose. I had snuck them out of my mother's room and fell into such a blissful, happy sleep while wearing them. So, my mother was very upset, stammering with anger, and asking all sorts of questions, like, "Do you want to be a woman?" "Do you want our family to find out about this?" Of course, both of my answers were no, although I was too young at that point to realize that the answer to the first question would become a "yes" in the future. The conversation, such as it was, ended with an order to stop doing this so that I wouldn't bring shame onto the family.

But I have yet to hear of anyone crossdressing and just stopping. For me, it would go away for awhile and then come back. When I was 17, I had my first real girlfriend, Sandy. Somehow I managed to tell her about my love of women's clothes and makeup. She thought it was cool, but I don't think I ever let her see me with them on, I was way too shy. But she gave me some of her clothes, and even some makeup. Maybe my mother figured out that these were Sandy's clothes, because when going up to my room with Sandy (my father used to drive me to the train station to pick her up), we saw the clothes piled on my bed. Just her way of saying, "I know about this." But just imagine, if Sandy had not known, she would've found out about my crossdressing in this manner...!

Soon after that little situation, I had gotten a job and was able to buy things for myself. Alas, it was to be a waste of money, as I would buy things, hide them, my mother would throw them out, I would buy more things and find a new hiding place (always in my room), they would be found and thrown out, rinse and repeat. I even stuffed a bunch of clothes into an unused amplifier for my neglected guitar. Anyway, after about ten months, Sandy and I broke it off. We both just started liking other people, is all.

Enter college days. Somewhere after high school, I started wearing the spandex pants and shorts that were so popular during the `80's. I would wear women's or men's, I liked them all. It was probably because they hugged my legs like pantyhose would, that I liked them so much. I have always loved tight-fitting clothes regardless. My next girlfriend was Millie, and she seemed to almost have a love/hate thing going as far as my crossdressing went. Well, she was very hot and cold with me in general also. She thought something was psychologically wrong with me for doing it, yet she was also very interested in it, and she used to go to the library to read about it. Yet I suppose because she just wanted to make me happy, she gave me one of her wigs and a few makeup items (her clothes were way too big for me). She was a hairdresser, and always wore lots of makeup. I always wanted her to make my hair up in some pretty style (it had a little length to it at this time), or to put makeup on me, but she never went for it. Anyway, she really got angry when I confessed to her that I had gone out in public wearing women's clothes, for the first time. I wore the wig that she gave me (which was kind of poofy and out of control), some makeup (I tried to use powder to cover the shadow on my face, but it didn't really work), and one of my sister's dresses, black pantyhose and high heels (she was in her mid-teens at this point, and they fit me almost perfectly). I actually went down to the college which I was attending at the time, and sat in the lobby of the Student Center. It was very exciting, yet as a few students started to stare and point in my direction, I figured that it would be best if I left. I drove around for awhile, then went home, only to panic at seeing that my brother had come home in my absence! Here I am, wearing a wig, girl's clothes and makeup, stuck outside. I had no regular clothes to change into, and he could be home all day... and then my father would come home. So I had to go inside and sneak upstairs looking all pretty. That was at least 10 years ago and my heart is pounding in my chest right now just thinking about it! Well, I was lucky enough to get up into my room unseen. I didn't go out again for quite awhile. And oh yes, Millie wanted her wig back after that.

Awhile later, Millie "disappeared" on me. She just never seemed to be home and didn't return my calls. Whenever I came by the house, I was told she wasn't home, or I was just told to leave. I found out later that she had told her parents about my crossdressing, and they had ordered her not to see me again. Very soon after that, I met Vanessa. I told her pretty quickly about my crossdressing, and at first she seemed to be okay with it. At my request, she fixed my hair and put makeup on me, and we even made love that way. This was pretty unbelievable for me, like a dream come true, but I found out that at the time it had made her really upset. She has an attraction to both men and women, so she said it confused her. So while she accepted me dressing in women's clothes, she no longer wanted me to do it around her, or to go out in public like that as well. I did shave my legs once, during the winter when they would be covered up by pants, but she didn't like that very much.

Sometime during our relationship, I got a P.O. Box and ordered some things from Frederick's of Hollywood, most notably a new wig. A nice one this time, although it was a shade or two too light for me. I took some pictures of myself in the house and out in the backyard when nobody was home. The backyard scenes are the nicest, I still love them. That natural light just gave off such a soft look. [These are the pictures featured in this blog entry.] Also, I had decided to keep my clothes in a public storage locker, since my mother kept throwing them out. I had them in there for several months, and one day, upon going to retrieve some things from there, I found the locker broken into. The lock was broken right off of the door, and all of the clothes were gone! Who would steal a bunch of women's clothing? To this day, I wonder if my mother was behind it. I went down to the police department with Vanessa to file a report, but of course they weren't going to open a case on a few hundred dollars worth of clothes.

Next up came my "dirtbag attack," as I sometimes call it. I was feeling trapped in my relationship with Vanessa. I wanted to grow my hair long, wear my tight, skimpy clothes (men's clothing, but skimpy athletic wear mostly), get my ears pierced, etc... and all of these things she greatly disapproved of. She ended up having to go into a mental hospital for a month, and during that time, I met another patient there, by the name of Christina. I got a big crush on her, and ended up leaving Vanessa for Christina. Christina was 17 (almost 18) at the time, and learning disabled. So yes, I made a pretty messed-up decision. But my just desserts come later.

When I told Christina of my crossdressing, she was very upset, and she ended up telling her sister, Donna. I was very uncomfortable about this, but Donna said it was normal and all that. Somewhere along the line, she became very hurtful to Christina (Donna had mental problems also), and I had to pick up Christina from a sleepover at her house. She basically kicked Christina out when I got there. We ended up having to call the police, because she wouldn't let us get Christina's medicine and other items from her house. She then followed me to my car, even with the policeman there, screaming that I wore girl's dresses like a sissy boy, and I was a fag, etc... all at 9:00 in the morning! So all the neighbors came out, and a good time was had by all... except the two of us.

Sometime after this, I shaved my legs again, and also my stomach and chest. I loved the smooth, silky feeling. But Christina didn't like it too much, so I didn't repeat the torso shaving again, although I did shave my legs a few more times.

Anyway, it eventually turned out that Christina was more receptive me to me getting dressed up, and somewhere around this time, I came up with the name of Jessica. Whether she really didn't mind, or was just trying to please me, I'm still not sure. The end result of either was that she agreed to come out with me when I was dressed. We went out four times. I'll briefly sum it up. We went to Burger King, and some guy thought I was a gg. He said to his friend that I was hot (Christina heard it). We went to Sears and tried on dresses together in the women's fitting room. We went to the mall, and I actually fixed my makeup right in the busy women's bathroom! We went to Taco Bell, and the man behind the counter called us "ladies." We went to the library. We went to a park, and she took lots of photos of me. I had little or no trouble with anyone until what was to be our last outing. I was in Macy's, trying on some clothes in the women's fitting room. Upon exiting the fitting room, I was greeted by security. "You can't use the women's dressing room, you must go in the men's room." Embarassed as hell, I left the store and entered the mall. Some black guy in the mall yelled out, "That's a man!" I tried to ignore all this and still have a good time, but then when walking into JC Penny's, I passed by Vanessa's brother, Greg! He did look at me, but I wasn't sure if he recognized me at all. After all this, I decided this was enough, and I ended the day as it was. (I later found out that he did recognize me, and he was upset about it.) In short, this day ruined the desire to dress up for me. Eventually, I wanted to do it again, but Christina didn't want to join me anymore, and she didn't want me going out alone either. So that was that.

Christina got pregnant over the summer of 2000, and we got married in January, 2001. Our daughter, Brittany, was born in March, and we moved into a condominium in April. I was free to dress however I wanted in the privacy of our home, but going out was still a no-no. I tried to get all that I could out of it though. I was able to go out wearing lip gloss, girl's denim "short shorts" in the summer, and black stretchy bell-bottoms in the winter. I had my night job, and Christina got a day job at a child care facility. I almost forgot to mention that in Christina, I had found someone whose clothes fit me. In fact, she gained a lot of weight during her pregancy, so her old clothes were now too small for her. So I "inherited" a bunch of nice things. So that was a big plus. But then for some reason, Christina turned into a psycho. Not coming home from work and not calling, spending no time with me at all, always out somewhere, screaming her head off at me for no reason at all... Then she wanted me to stay at my parent's house for a week. I refused, scared that I wouldn't be welcomed back to my new home again. But a week or two later, after her screaming at me and insulting me in front of my friends, and me subsequently smashing my hand through a glass panel lamp, I ended up going back to my parent's house after all. And there I stayed.

But a good thing came out of all this. Not only did I come to be in a much more stable environment (though I missed my daughter very much), but I was also free to explore my feminine side. Mind you, I have to be careful to not let my parents or siblings find out, but now I have the car to myself, and the freedom to go where I want, and when I want. Once I got my computer back online, I did some searching on the internet, looking for some salons in the city that would do a makeover on me. What did I find, but a place on Long Island, just 40 minutes away! (http://www.femmefever.com/)

The rest is history. I decided to change my "femme name" to Amethyst, Amy for short. I did this not only to signify a new beginning, but also just in case my "soon-to-be-ex-wife" decides to search the internet for my old name, since she knows the full name that I used. And that brings me up to my first entry. It was a long journey, but I feel that it's only just beginning.

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Wish Me Luck! (Blast From the Past Entry)

I'm going to be posting a few "Blasts from the Pasts" in the next few days, reason being that they covered my name change and my experience with that. I was still legally married at the time of this writing, and separated for five years. My divorce was final in October of 2008. My ex-wife still doesn't know that my name had been changed.

I was so excited and thrilled to be changing my name. For a lot of people, this would seem like a nuisance, but oddly enough, I enjoyed every minute of it. Tomorrow's post will tell of how everything went.



Thursday, June 21, 2007
--------------------------

Current mood: excited

I'm going to court tomorrow to put in for my name change! Yay!!!

I've already filled out the petition and the name change order. I have to run to my public storage unit tonight to get the child support order from five years ago. For some reason, they need proof of that, and some kind of statement from me. Tomorrow, I have to run to the ATM and take out some money ($210 in court fees!). Then I have to go to the Port Jefferson Village Hall to get my birth certificate. I get this for a mere pittance of $10. Then I bring everything to the Suffolk County Clerk in Riverhead. They give me an index number, and then I head to the Supreme Court, also in Riverhead. Who knows how long I'll be waiting there, but I either see a judge or he just signs the thing. Then, I have to get something published in a newspaper (probably Newsday) that I'm getting my name changed, and I get some kind of document from the newspaper saying that it was published. I run this back to court and then I'm done!

I'm so excited! I just hope I don't have problems because I am still legally married. Plus, I am changing everything. First, last, even middle name (Jean, chosen by my sweetheart!). Everybody who reads this, please wish me luck and lots of positive thoughts! I'll post again and let all of you know how it went.

Currently listening:

Metamorphosis

By Hilary Duff

Release date: 03 November, 2003

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Brittany, My Biological Daughter

Brittany is my one and only biological daughter, and at the time of this post, I have not spoken to her for a year. I miss her so very much. I'll remind all of you that I am indeed Brittany's father, and I was unaware of the fact that I'm a transsexual until early 2003.

Brittany was born on March 12th, 2001. I often called her "Britty-Baby." Her mother and I were both living at my parents' house at the time of her conception. We got married in January of 2001, and we bought a condominium a month later, using settlement money from a recent car accident.

I still remember when she was born. She wailed and wailed until they let me hold her. At that point, she stopped crying and looked up at me with her beautiful eyes. Then I started crying! It remains the most profound and touching moment of my life.

Bursting out of the closet (one of her favorite games then) in 2003. She was two years old.

Some time after Brittany was born, her mother got a job. She worked during the day, and I worked the graveyard shift. I would sleep while Brittany took her nap, and then for a few more hours when her mother came home. Brittany was a very mild baby, and she was a good sleeper from the start.

When Brittany was a year old, her mother started going out and partying, instead of coming home to let me rest before work. Sometimes she would come home so late, that I would be late for work. Never mind that I was already doing all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes, etc. We were fighting all the time. In July of 2003, she wanted me to stay at my parents' house for a week. I knew it would end up being for good, so I fought it, but eventually gave in, since I couldn't handle the stress anymore. She did indeed tell me not to come back, and I moved out my things while she was at work. She changed the locks after a few days.

Three years old, 2004.

I had visitation with Brittany every weekend, and she would stay overnight with me at my parents' house. Child support was also set up. In 2004, we found out that Brittany's mother hadn't been paying the maintenance charges for the condo, for almost a year! She was in danger of foreclosure. My father had co-signed on the place, so he was liable as well. I allowed Brittany's mom to move both of them down to North Carolina, as long as she brought Brittany up every other month for visitation. She had told me at the time that she was getting a place with her sister, but when I went down there, she said her sister had moved back to upstate New York. Instead, there was this man there by the name of Michael, who was her boyfriend.

One of my trips to North Carolina is detailed in two blog posts: here and here.

Four years old, 2005.

The arrangement with visitation lasted for about two years, upon which she said she couldn't travel because the doctor told her she had to be on bedrest during her latest pregnancy. Then after the baby was born, she couldn't take the baby with them, etc., etc. The last time I saw Brittany was in April of 2007. In January of that year, I went down there with Nikki and Skylar. Brittany's mother had a real bitch fit (actually, a jealous fit) over the fact that I brought Nikki. She and her fiancee (yes, she tried to rub it in my face that they were engaged now, but I couldn't have cared less) both noticed my chest and some other more subtle cues. She forbade me to bring Nikki again, but of course, it was my decision, not hers. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to travel down there again, due to all the problems Nikki and I were facing at the time (see this entry, one of many). Brittany got to meet Sarah and Savannah in April of 2007, when we were staying at a motel. I forget the circumstance, but it was a rare moment that Brittany got to come back up to New York for a couple days. There was some confusion, since Brittany was calling me "Daddy," while the other two only knew me as "Mama." It was interesting, to say the least! They took to each other right away, though. At one point, Brittany was throwing a fit and wouldn't leave the McDonald's play area when it was time to go. Sarah coaxed her out, saying, "I can't leave without my sister!"

Summer of 2006, five years old.

When I moved to Michigan with Nikki and the kids, her mother really freaked out, and wouldn't let me talk to Brittany on the phone again. She had been hoping for years that I would move, thus releasing her from the court order stating that she was to bring Brittany to me for visitation. This was another jealous fit, and she blamed it on the fact that I wasn't working. She said I wouldn't get to talk to Brittany on the phone, much less visit her, until I had a job and she was getting child support again. She said that since she wasn't getting child support, I no longer had the right to talk to Brittany. I doubt this is true, but then again, I've heard varying opinions on this.

Another from Summer, 2006.

She kept saying the nastiest things about me, and also about Nikki, and asking me very disrespectful questions (for example, asking me if Nikki pretends to be a man to further my "fantasy"), until I would have to hang up on her. I never told her mother that I'm a transsexual, mind you, because I feared her denying my visitation. As it is, my rights are still intact. I yearn to work again, not just to be a member of society once more, but to hire a legal aide in North Carolina to get me reconnected with my daughter. We just have no money to spare right now, unfortunately.

Christmas, 2006.

By all rights, Nikki and I should have Brittany. Her mother is emotionally and mentally handicapped. She can drive a car, but she has the maturity of a twelve-year-old. I heard her arguing on the phone with Brittany once, telling her daughter that a "mayflower" was a kind of flower, not a boat. I had to correct her. Why did I get involved with this woman, you ask? I wanted to take care of her, as she was a victim of multiple abusers, and things just kept on going. I was all she had, and I couldn't abandon her. Once she got pregnant, I felt obliged to marry her. Anyway, that seems like a lifetime ago. All in all, she is not a good mother. Her kids just walk all over her, and she seems just as immature as they are.

A school picture from Spring, 2007. Brittany is six years old here.

I can tell you who Brittany was at six years old, so this will be in past tense. She was stubborn, yet loving.  Somewhat out of control, because little boundaries had been set for her. She had seizures, in which she stared off into space, and occassionally urinated in her pants. She suffered migraines afterwards. She's been on multiple medications for this, and last I heard, the seizures were under control.

She loved Dora, and Dora toys were mostly what she wanted for Christmas. She was bored by anything else that was "cartoony." She did well with her work in school, yet had trouble paying attention in class. She loved salads and those little Starbucks drinks you can buy at the supermarket. She was very sensitive, and often went into "sulking periods," where she would sit with her back to you and wouldn't budge. This was an attention-seeking tactic though, because she would make sure you were reacting in some way (which I often went out of my way not to).

Fall of 2008. Seven years old.

She loved drawing and showing me her latest pictures. She enjoyed dancing and jumping around. If there was something she found funny, or fun, she would do it over and over again.

I miss my Brittany. I know I'll see her again, sooner or later. I just hope it won't be for too much longer.

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Pushing the Envelope (Blast From the Past Entry)

Wow, I remember this time. This was right before I first had acrylic nails. Oh my goodness, I fell in love! Ha ha! Seriously though, for folks like me, there comes a time when dysphoria gets to be too strong, and one really doesn't want to fight it anymore. I've been reading about a few others that are going through a time similar to this (Hi, Lisa!). I was fortunate in that my environment was a relatively friendly one in which to slowly break down those barriers.

I didn't come out at my workplace until April. They basically wondered what was up with me for three months, maybe more.

(The first picture is of Savannah and I, from Spring, 2007. The picture of the leather coat below looks very much like my coat. The rest of the pics are just for fun.)

Friday, January 12, 2007

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Current mood: mischievous

It's been four years. Four long years since I realized, "Hey, I'm a transsexual, and I can do something about this. I can actually live my life the way I want to." I've been patient. I started therapy in spring of 2003, and I started hormones in July of 2003. I was at a dead-end job, and I realized that the only way I could stand on my own two feet and do this, was to get into a better career. So I went to school for 10 months. 5 hours a day with a one-hour commute, and I continued working full-time on the graveyard shift. All so I could be free to look and act the way I feel inside. I wouldn't have been so determined if it wasn't for that.

Now I've been waiting for this divorce to come through. I want everything to be finalized before I do this, since Brittany's mom will probably try to take her away from me. Earlier this week, I found out that she finally signed, notarized, and mailed the papers. Her lawyer has them. Yay! Now all they have to do is send them to me to get signed and notarized. I send them back, and they forward them on to the court so they can do their thing.

In the meantime, I've really been pushing it. I've been patient for so long, but the walls of my little cage are starting to crack. I know what my life could be like once I make the change, and I want it now! I've been leaving my hair down. I usually brush it back behind my ears, but I've been just letting it fall lately. Okay, more than "letting it fall." I've actually been styling it that way. I know that may not seem like a big deal, but people have noticed. Hair makes a big difference in so many ways.

Last week, I couldn't find my winter coat after the move, so I wore my women's leather coat to work. I've had that for a year and I've never worn it to work.

I've been braver with the lipgloss. I've always worn it, but now I'm wearing more noticeable shades and just putting more on. I've been wearing my women's sneakers on "casual Friday" and I've been wearing tighter shirts that really don't hide the chest area well at all (hehe!).

Just before, Pam (one of my co-workers) wanted to know if she could ask me a personal question. She asked me if I was wearing lipstick. I told her it was gloss. Ha ha! I must have been beet red!

My nails have been peeling. They weren't that bad, but I noticed yesterday that my thumbnail had peeled all the way down into the part of the nail that's on my finger. I bumped it into something later on, and it almost cracked off! I had been planning on getting my nails done at a salon. That's something I've never done before. Nikki and I almost both got our nails done, but we didn't make it in time. On Sunday, we're going back, and I'm going to get short acrylic nails to protect my real nails. I'm going to start taking calcium pills too. The real fun part is... I'm wearing the nails to work, of course!

I am here, but not fully realized. I am alive, and I am me, but I am in silhouette. Soon, a picture will form in the silhouette. People will actually be able to see me, as I am. On my face will be a smile. The smile of self-realization. The smile of satisfaction. A smile that comes from a simple thing that so many take for granted (and why wouldn't they?): The comfort and pleasure of being able to express myself as the gender that I really am.

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Update (Blast From the Past Entry)

I have no idea why I kept alluding to rap music. I actually can't stand rap, with the exception of the early 80's artists like Grandmaster Flash, UTFO, and Newcleus.

Isn't it funny how with some past loves, you can barely fathom the love you once had? With me, at least, the truly great loves I've had, number to all of three, including Nikki. Heaven forbid we ever part. I would never forget the love we had. I can honestly say that it would outweigh any former love, hands down.

I pluck hairs from my face and neck all the time now. Actually, Nikki plucks my hairs more often than I do. That doesn't hurt nearly as much as it used to. I'm not sure if this comes from repeated plucking, or if it's related to hormone replacement therapy in some way. Sadly, I haven't been to a single electrolysis session since I wrote this entry.



Friday, September 29, 2006
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Current mood: silly

I know, it's been a long, long time since I've written a real blog. Just to be safe, I'm typing this in Word ("Word, yo. Letters and shit."), because this wacky MySpace contraption keeps messing up in numerous ways. Tom from MySpace is one darned hooligan. Friggin whippersnapper.

Anyway, I've been through quite a lot over the past two months. I have a girlfriend now (Hi, Tee!), and we've had some ups and downs. It's been more up than down (much more), and I consider myself so fortunate to have met her and won her love. I've also had some ups and downs with Vanessa, my best friend and roommate. Thankfully, things look pretty good at the moment, hence the silly blog.

I have been hit with expenses left and right. While out in Queens last month, my car got booted. It was $125 + tax (which was about $9) to have the boot removed, and I didn't have that much, nor any credit to use. Oops! Tee and I had to walk to her apartment so that her mom could help us out with some cash. The whole thing was really bad. I would've been stuck in Queens otherwise, and I had work the next day!

Then my car decided to start giving me trouble in quite a few ways. The brakes were going, so I needed two new rotors and a brake pad. My fuel injector also misfired, causing damage to my distributor cap and the rotor in the engine. So I needed a new fuel injector as well as those two things. My battery was leaking, so that had to be replaced. Thanks to Tee for that help. My engine was also overheating, so the hose and/or the thermostat for the radiator have to be replaced. This still has to be done, but I did buy the thermostat. This all came to almost $700, but thankfully my father was able to help me out with that.

About a week ago, I see that my cellphone bill came to $176! It turns out that my free minutes were starting at 9 PM, when I really thought they began at 7 PM. Oops again! So I got charged for 1100-something minutes. I did quite a bit of talking between 7 and 9 PM. As Grandmaster Flash said, "Now I'm broke and it's no joke…" I had to put off seeing my daughter in September, due to all of this. I hope to go see her in two weeks though.

On the transsexual front, I have not started my real life test (aka RLT, aka "full-time"), as I previously planned. The last time I wrote about this, I was waiting for my ex's lawyer to get off his ass. Well, he did, but he messed something up. He wrote that my ex was to bring Brittany up every month, when we had agreed to alternate months (I go down one month, and she's brought up the next month). So this has to be rewritten. The lawyer needs this in written form from my ex. She hasn't done this yet. Until the divorce is final, I can't risk changing my name and other legal papers. It'll make things so much more complicated, and will bring about a higher chance of losing visitation with my daughter, than if we are already divorced and everything is finalized. I'm really upset that I can't start living my life the way I want to. This in-between crap is getting old fast.

Because of my money loss and falling behind on bills, I haven't gone to electrolysis in over a month. This has caused me a great deal of anxiety as I'm seeing more hairs grow back in. Eventually, they'll be gone forever in any case, but I haven't been able to keep up with it. The other day I was plucking hairs from my chin with a tweezer. It hurt, but it does look better to me now. I'm probably the only one who notices the hairs, at least to the extent that I do, but I hate those hairs so bad. I've had almost 60 hours of electrolysis and I still have so much more to go. Electrolysis is the most tedious part of transition for a male-to-female transsexual, hands down. And it hurts pretty bad too.

I think I've bombarded you all with enough information for awhile. As usual, I welcome all comments. I hope you are all doing well. And hey… keep in touch with a fellow psycho!

Currently reading:

The Kinslayer Wars (Dragonlance Elven Nations, vol. 2)
By Douglas Niles
Release date: August, 1991

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Goals in Jeopardy (Blast From the Past Entry)

My ex didn't tell her lawyer "never mind," but this was a scary moment for me at the time. My divorce wasn't final until October of 2008.



Tuesday, June 13, 2006
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For those who don't know, I'm still technically married. I've been separated from the mother of my child for almost four years now. It was not anything having to do with me enjoying wearing women's clothes and makeup (back then, I thought I was a crossdresser, so she did as well... but she knew such from the very beginning). Simply put, she married too young. She had no childhood to speak of, being shuffled from foster home to foster home, from abusive parents, and then abusive foster parents. In a sense, she started living a normal life when she met me. But things just happened too soon. When she was 21, she was still pretty immature, yet now was married to me, had a kid, and a home to take care of. I ended up taking care of the baby and the condo, and I was alone most of the time. She was out partying, hanging with friends, and sometimes coming home so late that I ended up being late for work (I used to work the graveyard shift). I guess my taking care of everything while she pranced about like a spoiled princess was too much for her, so she decided she wanted a separation. I was deeply depressed for about a month, and then began my healing process. Today, I regret the fact that I ever became involved with her, and I really wish I didnt have to talk to her, but then there is Brittany. My daughter is a shining beacon of love and innocence in my life. I would do it all over again just so I could have my daughter.

Anyway, we have been doing the uncontested divorce thing. We have nothing really to fight over, as far as property or shared items. Visitation and child support have already been worked out, and have been in effect for years. In January, I mailed a check to her lawyer for the index number fee. It was never cashed. A few weeks ago, I find out that the check has to come from the lawyer, not me. The lawyer delivered the summons to me (of which I am not required to appear in court), and he gave me my check back. I wrote him a new check to his name. He said he would mail me the papers on what the details of the divorce would be, sometime during the week. I have not gotten anything yet, big surprise. But at least things are set in motion now. Before the divorce is final, I can't really transition into living a woman's life full-time. She might use it as leverage in court and escalate the whole thing into a full-fledged divorce. I have no doubt in my mind that she would do that to get my visitation rights taken away.

Last night, I get a weird text message from my ex.

"What do I have to do?"

I didn't answer it. I deleted it and marveled on how strange she is sometimes. This morning, while I'm at work, she sends it again. So I reply, like an idiot.

"Do about what?"

"To get what I want."

"What do you want? What are you talking about?"

"I want what I can't have."

Okay, the loud claxons started going off about now. She wants me back now? My first reaction was, Ha. Ha ha. Bahhh ha ha ha! My second reaction: Bahhhh ha ha ha!

I kept telling her that I didn't know what she meant. Then she tells me to say to the lawyer, never mind. Uhh, WHAT? She said she wasnt going to go through with it, and we could just stay like this forever. The only real reaction that I've given her so far, is that she paid him $1000, and I spent $205 for the index number. If she was going to cancel the whole thing, I want my $205 back. She texts back, "Nope." I'm pissed and just a bit scared right now. So I decided that ignoring her for a bit would do the trick. I had too much to do at work at the moment anyway.

I don't know whats happening. If this divorce doesn't happen, I'll have to put off my transition for quite awhile. I'll also have to shell out $5,000 to $10,000 that could be used for other things (surgery, hint hint), if I even had that kind of money to begin with. Being myself has become such a joy for me, that naturally I want it all the time. Other people get to be themselves every hour of every day of their life, so why should I be denied? I have put so much work into this goal of becoming me. Three long years of therapy, hormones, laser hair removal, electrolysis, not to mention the fact that I went back to school so I could do this (almost a year of working full-time and school full-time, ugh, that's a whole other story though). It's too late for me to turn back on this, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I have to do this.

Now that I feel in jeopardy about my transition, I've been reminded of how badly I want this, and how much it means to me. When someone is working towards something for several years, they tend to forget the big picture of what life will be like. Sure, I think of living as a woman and how wonderful that would be for me, but most times it's tempered by other thoughts, day-to-day things... hanging out with this friend, I have to pay that bill, why is my car making that noise? I am mere months away from this transition occurring, and it will be one of the most wonderful things ever to happen in my life. My defining moment, my sundering the chains of my old life to finally begin to live life the way I should. And instead I must stay married to this sad, jealous, immature asshole? Uh-uh. Not happening. It's more than a matter of wanting it now, I need this. I need to be me. She is standing in the way of that. NOT a good place to be.

I'll keep you all posted...

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Addendum to North Carolina Trip (Blast From the Past Entry)

This was a private entry on MySpace, whereas the previous entry was public. I recommend reading the previous post first.

Monday, June 05, 2006
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Current mood: amused

Here are a few things that I didn't want to mention in my public entry, regarding my trip. Those of you on my private list are aware that there's another aspect of my trip, and the reality that I am actually Brittany's father. I didn't wear makeup or bring anything other than gender neutral clothes on my trip. For those of you who don't know what gender neutral clothes might be, it's t-shirts, jeans and shorts, which are of a style that either a male or female could wear them. I did wear a pair of satiny (is that a word?) pajamas to bed, but they weren't frilly or cut in a very feminine style either.

On Saturday, when I went to the beach and pool with Brittany, I had to cover up, naturally. I wore men's bathing shorts, that my friend, Vanessa and her mom bought for me quite some time ago. They're still in good condition. On top, I wore a t-shirt... not a flimsy one, but one that was more difficult to see through. At the pool, those two women (lesbians?) didn't seem to be looking at me much, but I could just imagine what they were thinking, seeing someone who looked like a woman being called "Daddy." There was one point when I went under the water and put my hair back when I came up. Brittany said pretty loudly (word for word, here), "Daddy, you look like Mommy." (My ex always has her hair tied back like that.)

When we went to Miller's Restaurant and Taco Bell, I had some odd looks. The hostess in Miller's Restaurant (who I had wished was on the menu, LOL) was calling me "ma'am." Then Brittany says, "Daddy, I want pancakes." Ummm, can you say "awkward situation?" I knew you could! I got some strange looks from the hostess and other folks gathered in that area, trying to determine which gender I was at that point. And at Taco Bell, there were three guys gathered behind the counter, talking low and laughing at me. If I wasn't with Brittany, I might have caused a stink, and spoken with the manager. But I did my best to ignore them, while getting rather pissed off. How dare you ridicule a customer? You're going to laugh at a customer and make her (yes, her!) uncomfortable? I'm bringing you business, giving you my hard-earned money, while spending quality time with my daughter... and this is what I get? I'll shove that Taco Supreme right up your ass, buddy. And I'll make it crunchy style!

There were a few times during the weekend when Brittany called me "Mommy." I liked it, but it was odd to me. I'm sure the ex would't be happy if she knew Brittany had called me that. It wasn't awkward like the "Daddy thing," so that was good. One time she actually did catch herself saying it. She said, "I'm sorry, Daddy... I didn't mean to call you Mommy." (Wow, she talks like such a grown-up sometimes now!) I told her, "That's okay, honey. You can call me whatever you want to call me." I remember someone at the LITE meeting (Long Island Transgender Experience support group) saying that she lets her son call her whatever he feels like at the moment. For awhile, he did call her by her chosen name, but then slipped back to "Daddy." That made it a bit awkward if she was in the mall, but this is her child. If her son needs to have a daddy at that point, that's what she is... because she will always be the father of her child no matter what. (Now that's a different thing to be saying, isn't it?) If Brittany needs to think of me as Daddy, then that's what I will be. If she'd rather call me Mommy or Amy, or even Auntie, that's fine too. I leave that up to her, and she will call me whatever makes her most comfortable.

The innocence and openness of my child is very profound to me. She knows certain things about me, but they are nothing unusual to her at all. She's seen my boobs when I take a shower, she hands me my sports bras ("Here's your bra, Daddy."), she's seen my toenails painted and my legs clean-shaven. She's even said that I'm a girl in front of my ex (this was about a year ago though), and my ex has said, "No, Daddy's a boy." At this moment, I believe that she thinks of me as a boy (or man) who wears sports bras, has breasts, and paints his toenails. But there is some part of her (that my ex has been trying to de-program) that associates me with girls (or women), as she has called me "Mommy" a few times.

Children are very smart, without bias or prejudice to get in the way. She doesn't know a thing about transsexuality, but in a way, it's like she doesn't have to know. Not yet, anyway. It's easier right now, because she's open to things, intelligent, and sees the world in a different light than adults do. At this stage of her life, she just wants me to be there. She wants me to love and care for her, and do fun things with her. Once you take away society's bigotry and closed-mindedness (the latter of which tends to happen naturally as you get older, and I find to be nobody's fault for the most part), what more can she want? As she gets older, these aspects of society will start to become a problem for her. Her friends won't understand. If she talks about it in school, how will the teachers down there react? Her simple world will become tarnished by others, and she may have problems with her life (and with me) because of it. This is something that I think about often, and sometimes I have considered sacrificing my happiness and well-being by remaining in a male existence, so as to spare her these hardships. But... I would not be happy, and I would probably often be sad or depressed. What kind of parent would I be? Not much fun, and quite a burden in that sense as well.

The main obstacle is my ex, who thinks that even gays and lesbians are freaks of nature and sinners against God. She's a nasty, bigoted, closed-minded woman, with no concern to how others feel or how they want to live their lives. And then there's me. My ex won't understand at all, and I don't think she's sensible or intelligent enough to spare Brittany the confusion of: "Don't listen to Daddy, he's a boy."

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