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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I Made a Vlog!

Yes, it's true! I think it may be a bit boring to watch, and unfortunately, the camera we have is not the greatest. And wow... is my voice that low? I think I could get it a bit higher. My voice tends to get lower when I feel "on the spot." When being on camera is more of a natural thing for me, I think my voice could be free to be higher... I hope.

Anyway, watch this, and then go over to my YouTube channel and subscribe, leave a comment, what-have-you. Thanks!

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2010 in Review

A few recent blogs have featured a "year in review," so I figured I'd adopt the idea for myself. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all.














In January, our daughters had a sleepover, I experienced some breast growth due to progesterone meds, and Nikki broke a rib (ow!).

In February, we ate at Red Lobster, I started going to therapy at no charge, and we started thinking about moving to Arizona.

In March, I (sort of) completed my own Interactive Fiction game, I had a talk with my mother after a long absence, and I got very sick.

In April, we had our apartment in Arizona approved, and I colored my hair redder than ever before.

In May, I got my Phoenix tattoo, Skylar chopped her hair off with a pair of scissors, some of our animals passed away, we said goodbye to family, and we headed off to Arizona!

In June, we moved into our new apartment!

In July, I didn't blog at all since we were so busy with the kids, and fixing up the apartment.

In August, Nikki got a job, we met trans-kid Rachel (among other people), I got my Arizona driver license with no problem at all, and school started for the kids, and I got some exercise pulling a wagon six miles a day.

In September, we had to replace the wagon already!

In October, I got a green iguana, one of our rats gave birth unexpectedly, and my mother sent me an upsetting letter.

In November, Nikki and I celebrated our four-year anniversary, the Transgender Day of Remembrance saw it's twelfth year, and I got free shoes!

In December, we went geocaching for the first time, my breasts started to grow again (!), Sarah got a girlfriend (!!!), and we celebrated the holidays.

Here's looking ahead to 2011! I hope everyone has a fantastic year!

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Letter From Mom

For those who don't know, my mother still doesn't accept the fact that I'm a transsexual. It's been over seven years now, and she seems no closer to coming around than she did then. She still calls me by my old male name, though she knows it was changed a few years back. She refuses to even write the name in correspondence.

Below is a letter that I received late last week. I'm going to write it here, then write my reply, and type it in here too. A lot of the things she states she heard is just untrue. Someone is exaggerating. Anyway, here's her letter to me.

X (male name deleted),

Last week, Dad took Grandma back to Nebraska to see her sister and nieces. He had a good time until his cousins and aunt confronted him about your letters to them. Supposedly, you told them that we had thrown you out and disowned you. I guess you had a few especially nasty things to say about me. I really didn't think it was possible to break my heart anymore than it is. This is your decision to pursue this kind of life. Life is so hard already, and you're only making it harder on yourself. You can't deny that you're making yourself unhireable. An employer has more than enough issues with employees without taking on the burden of hiring a transvestite.

You are so positive that you're doing the right thing, but I really worry about what will become of you. We won't be around forever, and Dan and Laura are really not inclined to help support you. They have their own families and problems. You have taken their brother away, as you have taken my son away. This is your own choice, you don't ask your 93 year old grandmother to finance a sex change. Even if she could, she wouldn't do it. It goes against everything she has lived her life believing.

Please stop sending pictures and trying to force a relationship with these people. They are embarrassed and feel badly for us. I don't know how to make you see this. They are all parents and know how we must feel. All parents want their children to be happy, but your lifestyle is just really hard to get past. Each person's sexuality is a very private thing, and really should be of no interest to others. You're trying to force people into acceptance but that can't work. They don't wish you ill, but at the same time they don't want or have an interest in this. I know I can't make you see the effect you're having, because this is the life you've chosen for yourself, and you've convinced yourself it's right. But this is your own life, and these decisions are yours. You can't change how people think.

I can only hope that you can find people that feel the same way that you do, so you're not alone. You have to have something of your own to fit your life. We can't fit because this is just too much to get past. Because you are our son, it's really so very very hard. It is the heart break of our lives, because we literally don't know how you'll end up, and how you'll support yourself. I have a hard time seeing a good future, you have no job, no insurance, no prospects, no retirement, and no savings. You can't live in a bubble, you have to fit in the world as it exists and not how you want it to be. I don't know how to make you see what's right there. This is your life right now, there is no second chance. You only get to do it once, and when you look back, it's really such a short time. I don't know if I've given you anything to think about, but I'll never stop hoping that I have.

Ma

*sigh*

Dear Mom,

I was very surprised at what you told me in the beginning of your letter. I have never said you kicked me out or disowned me. You took me in for several months when Vanessa was about to sell her house, and after Nikki and the kids went into the safe house. I had no money, and you and Dad took me in and fed me, rent free. Then I chose to move to Michigan with Nikki and the kids. These people (who I don't know and have never talked to) misunderstood, or were exaggerating. The only people I've conversed with on Dad's side of the family, are Grandma, Candice (though not for many months), and Deanna (once, about a year ago). All I told them is that you don't accept or understand why I made the change that I did. I don't know Dad's cousins, and unless it's Aunt Edna, I don't know the aunt of his that you mentioned either. I'm very sorry that they upset you and Dad, but I never told anybody what they claim.

The work situation is an issue that I've been struggling with for years. Yes, there is a stigma attached to being a transsexual, and it's something I have to deal with. Like you said, I didn't make this world, and I have to deal with it and get by as best as I can. Also, I am not a transvestite. A transvestite is someone who dresses in clothing of the opposite sex, and acts in that role, and they later return to their lives and act as their born gender. They typically don't change their name or consider surgery. Transsexuals (note that I have mixed feelings on this term, as many focus on the last three syllables and see it to be a 'sexual' thing) usually take hormones, change their name, and some seek surgery.

Please believe me when I tell you that I have never asked Grandma for money for gender reassignment surgery. I did mention that I wanted it, but had no money, and that was that. Also, please realize that Grandma does accept what I'm doing and who I am. No, I don't think she is any better than you are in any way. I don't know how or why she can accept when others can't. Everyone's different, I suppose.

Yes, I'm no longer representative of any form of son or brother. I can't imagine what such a loss must feel like. I won't apologize for being who I am, but I am sorry for your pain, as well as for the rest of the family. To grieve is natural. I have changed in so many ways. My friend Chris took it hard for many years. Yet, Steve and Daria got through it after a brief adjustment period. Everyone is different, and everyone feels things differently.

As far as sexuality being a private thing, this doesn't apply here (apart from me and Nikki's relationship). This is about gender. I am living the life of a different gender than I used to. The way I feel inside never matched the way I look on the outside. I've felt this way for as far back as I can remember. I was always afraid to say so. Afraid of being ridiculed by other kids, afraid of being punished as a child for acting in a way I shouldn't. Gender is a very public thing. There are males and there are females. They are (usually) very easy to tell apart. I was not happy living in the male gender role. I always felt different inside. I went in and out of depression since high school, until my separation with Christina. It took me so long to put two and two together, and to see that transsexuals are not freakish people. They are not like Rupaul, or like that character on The Rocky Horror Picture Show. They live day to day lives, and you've probably seen some of them and never thought a thing about them. The same way that people may look my way on the street when I'm walking the kids to school, or in a store shopping, and then look away. I've always been rather slim and short, and never had rugged facial features. That really helps me now. I would really love to have a job. Things go fine until they do a background check. Someday, I'll find a more open-minded employer.

I do have insurance at this point, though it's from the state. When Nikki and I finally get married, I could be on her insurance. She's very close to having a regular teaching position, since they're going to be firing the teacher in her classroom. They want Nikki to teach the class. So she'll soon be making a lot more money. As for me, I've been writing a lot lately, and I want to see if I can get a novel published. I've also considered starting my own business, fixing computers and such.

I do have quite a few good friends here. Some are transsexual, but many aren't. I know three mothers of transsexual children. Rachel and Josie are both nine years old, and Emerson is twelve. Josie is home-schooled, since their local school has a problem with her attending class as a girl, but the other two are able to go to school. They have all been saying they're a girl (and Emerson insisting he's a boy) since they could speak. This was unheard of ten years ago, but kids like this were always around. The world is slowly changing. When I was younger, there was barely any media coverage on transsexuality. Now there are specials on The Discovery Channel, and The Learning Channel, as well as episodes of The Tyra Banks Show and others. Many people will never accept or understand, but many others do. There are many crusaders (trans or not) of the rights of transsexuals. I don't wish to be one of them, though I applaud their efforts. I merely wish to live my life as the gender I feel inside. The ENDA (Employment Non-Discrimination Act) in Tucson prohibits employers from discriminating on the basis of gender identity. Previously, it only included race, ethnicity, religion, et al. (Though many employers can find another "reason" for firing (or not hiring) anyway.) Things change, albeit slowly.

As far as choice, I didn't choose this. Other than a choice to be happy or not, there is no choice. This is who I am inside. I can be me, or live a lie. I can live as a woman, or fight depression and anxiety for the rest of my life. Besides being without a job, I am happy. I love Nikki, I love our family, and I love my home and my friends. I'm so much more in touch with my feelings than I was before. Grandma said when she saw me a year ago, that she had never seen me talk so much or seem so happy. I am, very much so. I'm comfortable and at ease with myself. I'm living my life authentically. Like you said, there's no second chance in life. If I tried to be who everyone wants me to be, I would only live my life with regret and sadness.

I truly love you and Dad, my brother and sister, and grandparents, aunts and uncles. I can feel that so much more. And I feel so sad that so many of you cannot accept who I am. But just as I have no choice but to be who I am, you (all of you) have no choice but to feel the way you feel about it. Maybe someday, you'll see that I'm still here. I have the same interests, the same values, and the same wacky sense of humor. My gender is all that's changed. But yes, that is an awfully big change. I wish I could put an end to my family's pain, disappointment, and heartbreak. The only way for me to that would be to return to living a lie, the act that I had to play for so many years... and that would be so unhealthy for me. 'Devastating' would not even be a fitting word.

I love you, Ma. I love you all.

Love,

Amy

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A Day in the Life...

This was taken from a message to a friend, which I've expanded quite a bit. Wednesday. "Hump Day" for the fortunately employed, but rather hellish for me.

(It's funny... I googled "tough day" and got the above image. How ironic... don't ya think?)

It's been a very busy week here. We were in danger of losing the apartment, but thank goodness my mother helped us. Nikki just started working about two weeks ago, but she doesn't get paid until September 4th, so things are tight until then. I've been pulling the wagon back and forth to take Savannah to school (see previous blog entry).

On Tuesday evening, our air conditioning stopped working. It quickly got to over 80 degrees in the apartment. The serviceman came down, but he couldn't do anything on the roof since it was dark and rainy at the time. I ended up pulling an all-nighter because it was just too hot for me to fall asleep. I don't think I've done that since I was a teenager. I had the car on Wednesday so that I could take Skylar to a doctor appointment. I thought it would be a nice day, since I wouldn't have to drag the wagon around for six miles. Heh, not really.

I dropped Nikki off at work, dropped Savannah off at school, then went home to wait for the repairman, and for the package to come from my mother. The apartment manager has been giving us a hard time because I'm not on the lease yet. It turns out that any adult who lives in an apartment must be on the lease. On this one particular day, she decided to step it up a notch.

"I'm not allowed to give you any information because you are not on the lease."

"I don't need information, I just need the serviceman to come by and fix the air conditioning."

"We don't have clearance for the serviceman to enter the home, and only Nikki can give the clearance."

"Wait a second. She's at work and can't be readily reached, but I am here in the apartment."

"Yes, but you are not on the lease, and that's the problem here."

"The problem here is that there is a four year old in this apartment, and in a few hours, it will be over 100 degrees in here... and you won't let him fix the air conditioning."

"Sigh... it'll take him about a half hour since he's working on another repair right now."

He arrived less than ten minutes later. The problem was fixed in about five minutes. When I asked him what was wrong with it, he said that he had "gotten in trouble with the manager" for talking to me the night before, and Nikki would have to call the office to find out. (We don't care that much, as long as it's fixed.) I wonder how exactly he got in "trouble?" And why? How would he know if my name was on the lease or not?

Then I went to Sarah's school to give them some money she owes for lunches, went home and got one hour of sleep, then got up, gave Skylar lunch and took her to the doctor for a checkup. The doctor gave her a clean bill of health, and said her shots could wait until next year. I agreed to that, since I was late for picking up Savannah.

I picked up Savannah from school, then I filled the tank with gas, and went home to wait for Sarah to get home. I saw a note stuck in the door. The deliveryman had arrived while I was out running our errands, and the package was at the post office. It was made out to Nikki, since my mother still refuses to acknowledge in any way that I have a new name... yet she is intelligent enough to know that I can't sign for a package with a name that is no longer my own. Anyway, Sarah got home, and I helped her with her homework, but we couldn't finish because I had to pick Nikki back up from work.

Nikki usually gets off at 3:45. I got there early since I figured, who knows, we might get delayed in traffic and not make it back to the post office in time, 35 minutes from her employer! 4:00 PM came and went. I went inside and asked the receptionist if she was still there. She said that she believed she had left, but I was welcome to check the classroom if I wanted to. I was getting really nervous now. Did she get a ride home from someone else? Did she get hurt or sick at work, and was rushed to the hospital? Not only was I worried for her health and safety, but she was the only one who could sign for that package, and the court date was tomorrow! Then I saw her walking, and caught up with her. She asked me, "How were you coming from back there?" The kids were all crying because they were stuck in a hot car for 20 minutes, and they were thirsty and hungry. Savannah had a migraine. Unfortunately, to keep our home, we couldn't yet stop for food, water or pain relievers. We had to hightail it to the post office before the 5 PM deadline. We got there at 4:45 PM.

Nikki signed for the package and we brought it to the manager, and now yay, we don't have to appear in court the next day. The manager was a totally different person at this point. Personable and friendly. Hmmm, well she was getting money after all. My mother actually sent us a bit more than we needed, so that money is going towards getting my name on the lease ($39.00), and as a credit towards next month's rent.

We went out to eat at a Chinese restaurant near us. We came home and I jumped into bed and fell asleep so fast. I much prefer the Kiddo Karavan days.

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Auntie M's and the PVC Skirt (Blast From the Past Entry) (8 Days to Go!)

Eight days to go until the move! Attack of the Malaysians? I wouldn't mind being attacked by these Maylasians. Okey-dokey, now here's the part where I wait for Nikki to read this entry and wack me over the head with a random item...

Here's the penultimate edition of "blast from the past." If I do any after more after the last entry, it'll be scans of funny stuff I drew or what-not. Not even trans-related. So enjoy it, willlya? And please comment if you can think of anything to say. My commenters have fallen by the wayside, even on my current entries.

I don't remember much about my parents being away from home. I think it was for a week, and I could come and go as much as I wanted to, being the only one in the house. It was a tantalizing taste of freedom. In fact, now that I think about it, I did go to the bank all dolled up, just to withdraw cash from the ATM. I was wearing my Mudd heeled sandals that I also mentioned below. I still have them, and they're still my favorite pair of shoes, despite the scores that I've worn since `03.

Auntie M's closed quite a few years ago.




May 17th, 2003
------------------

My happy little "vacation" is at an end. My parents came back yesterday, so Amy is back in hiding. I went out to dinner with Dee (who now prefers the name Diana), after getting ready at her place. I was wearing a blue stretchy shirt that's actually a young mens' shirt. I wore jean short-shorts and my new "feel good" Mudd heels. I really looked like I had huge boobs with this shirt! The real reason I wore it, is because the collar is cut high, to cover my annoyed birthmark. That last laser session left a bunch of scabs on it. Ick!

We went to a diner near the Smithaven Mall. I ordered a full dinner: flounder stuffed with crab, soup, salad, fruit cup, potatoes, creamed spinach... the works. There was another customer there with her husband or boyfriend, who was laughing, and then just staring at me. It didn't really bother me until she was watching me eat my entire dinner. How rude! This one man in the lobby (before we were seated) made a funny comment that I was "pushing the season," as I was wearing shorts, and the nights are still kind of chilly. I always do that though. I just love summer clothes.

Afterwards, Diana went home, and I picked up Carmen. We were going to Auntie M's to see the drag show and to see Karen (owner of FemmeFever). I changed out of the shorts, and into a black shiny pvc skirt. Oooh, naughty Amy!

Yep, it looks pretty much just like this!

It was pretty crowded that night at Auntie M's, so I had to park pretty far away, on a side street by a 7-11. On the walk to the bar, I got two "woooh's" and one cry of "crazy legs!" Insane gams? Hmmm... Anyway, we made it inside in one piece, and Karen said she thought we were two gg's walking in. She looked tired, but it was great to see her again.

After the drag show, I played some pool with Carmen, then we played as a team against two guys. One of them thought he recognized me from somewhere in guy mode, but he didn't look familiar to me at all. We left around 4 am (!!!), and I got a few more "woooh's" and whistles as walked back to the car. I should've known that skirt was trouble. Guess I'll have to wear it again soon...!

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Odds and Ends

It's been a week or so since I last blogged. Things have been pretty quiet until the last few days, and now I've finally gotten some time to post it all.

First of all, as you might be able to see from the photos, I've recolored my hair. (And I also love girls. LOL!) I used the same color as last time, L'Oreal Feria Power Reds Ruby Rush. I remarked on what a light red it was at first, and a few of you wanted to see what it looks like right after I color it. Well, it didn't look quite so shocking this time. It's maybe a tad redder than the picture in the link provided above, but then said picture was taken a week later. I guess because I still had a lot of the old red in my hair still, or my hair got "used" to the color? Who knows? I do love the way it looks right now. I hope it doesn't wash out too quickly!

Also in the same post, I mentioned these tights that I wear sometimes when I go walking. I'm wearing them in the photos shown here. My therapist thought they were leather pants. Nope. I do have leather pants, but wow I'd probably have to lose 20 to 30 pounds to fit into them again. Last time they fit, I didn't have hips and a butt. It's amazing how fat on females is stored in different places than on males. And yes, the leather pants that I speak of are women's pants, just small!

By the way, I've lost seven pounds in a month and a half! From 163 down to 156. I wanted to lose 20 pounds before Arizona, so I may have to step it up a bit. I've still been eating fast food and such lately, thinking that walking alone might do the trick. Guess not. Three years ago, I was 135. That's pretty good for my height and bone structure (I'm built rather small), and I could fit into all my clothes again if I got back there. Well... almost... I don't think the leather pants would even fit at 135 pounds.

Next! (And this is not in order of importance!) We have an Arizona apartment approved and ready for us! It has three bedrooms (one more than we have now), two bathrooms, a private patio, a washer and dryer (Yay! We need those appliances so bad!), a dishwasher, and all the usual amenities. There's central air A/C, which is much better than those swamp coolers I've been hearing about. (I've been told that they're big machines that sit outside and pump in non-cooled, moist air into the apartment, making you all clammy and such. Ick!) We haven't paid them yet, as we haven't seen the apartment in person. But we hear that it's in a good area, and the pictures look good. Keep your fingers crossed for us? The amount of money we have to pay to move in is surprisingly small, which makes me skeptical. But I hope, I hope, I hope! My mother is kindly paying for the moving truck (Penske), and we already have the money saved to move in. We're working on gas and miscellaneous expenses... well Nikki is actually, since I'm not making any money. Anyway, it's going to cost about $500 in gas to get down there. We have some of that saved. We have 28 days to go. Four weeks! Wow. I can't wait! Even Skylar said she can't wait. What a cutie. She turns four on May 17th!

My tattoo is on Saturday! (I wrote about it here.) I can't wait for that too! Nikki's worried that I might bleed too much (due to it being over my port wine stain birthmark... see that entry), or it won't come out good. Nikki is a born worrier though, while I am sometimes dangerously optimistic. I'm just excited and so looking forward to this. You can bet you'll read about my experience here, with some pics, of course.

As I mentioned earlier, I've been walking a lot lately. I've had some interesting experiences, that's for sure. Some guy kept honking at me in his SUV. He then turned around and followed me, and tried to turn into a parking lot that was up ahead of me. Traffic on the other side kept him waiting, and I passed the entrance to the parking lot before he was able to turn. He came out and tried to do it again at another parking lot. Same thing. Ha ha! He honked again and drove away. Thank goodness he gave up!

Oh, and some guy came up to me and shook my hand (!) and asked me if I had any cigarettes... or money (!). I told him I don't smoke, and nope, no money. I hightailed it away from him as he uttered some non-intelligible words in reply. Oy! What else? Some guy on the back of a garbage truck yelled out, "Shake it, baby!" Something like that. I had some girl smile and wave at me. Maybe she thought she knew me. But then another girl was just staring at me and smiling from her car. I wasn't even wearing my pride bracelet! And lots of men staring. And old ladies. I'm not sure what's up with the old ladies. Sometimes I enjoyed the attention (as long as they were in their cars and didn't start following me), and sometimes I felt kinda creeped out. Go figure.

I got this bag (from Xhilaration) to keep my water, cellphone, money and other stuff in while I walk. It kind of looks like this, only the strap is black as well. (Too bad, it looks nice with a pink strap...) I love it, and Nikki says it looks like "rocker chick." Or is that "rocker chic?" Before this, I was walking around carrying my jacket or a Wal-Mart shopping bag to put this stuff in when I didn't have any pockets with my outfits (which is 90% of the time). This is much much better. Cute and no hands required. Sarah and Savannah also got some bags, since they loved mine so much. Sarah got a denim hobo bag with a matching hat, and Savannah got a small green bag.

And that's all my news. I surely can't think of anything else. I'll probably post another "blast from the past" on Friday night, and then on Saturday night, the results of my tattoo. Wish me luck!

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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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Emotional Rollercoaster

My day has been quite hellish, culminating in a talk with my mother a few hours ago. I haven't spoken to her in over a year. I should start at the beginning, so...

My regular readers will know that Nikki broke a rib about five weeks ago. Because of that and a few other things, we've fallen two months behind on our rent. I mentioned in my next-to-last post that we have an eviction notice dated March 5th. Yes, that's tomorrow.

We applied for State Emergency Relief (SER), and the worker said she didn't think it would go through, but she would try anyway. I called this Community Action Center, but they said they needed the denial letter from SER in order to help us. Which would arrive by mail. Sooner or later.

I'm actually struggling to make it through this entry. I feel like I don't have the energy.

So we cried, and held each other. Nikki called her father, and he said he could take the kids into his home if we lost the apartment, but he'd have to think about taking Nikki in. His own daughter! And then she called her sister, who yelled at her. She even called her ex, who was too busy painting his brother's apartment to care for a minute what happens to the kids.

I started looking up churches and charities in our county. I have a stack of papers all printed out and ready to call tomorrow morning. Nikki asked me something that I was trying not to think about. Calling my parents (namely my mother, who seems to be the only one who answers the phone). I called and left a message, explaining our situation, and that she didn't have to help us, that I would understand.

I got a call back about 15 minutes later.

To make a long story short, my mother said she would help us. My parents would send the full amount, which is well over $1000, by express mail, which should arrive on Friday. D Day.

To make a long story, uhhh... not so short, my mother started by reprimanding me for sending out the Christmas cards with the family photo (see this entry). She kept saying that I was putting everyone in an uncomfortable position, and they didn't know how to act. I told her that I sent them a card. They could act any way they wanted to, and I wouldn't have seen it. She did seem to concede that fact. It's not like I called them and said, "How do you like my new name?" That would be beyond awkward.

She also seems to think that while I understand and accept what I'm doing, the rest of the world does not. Hmmm, well I guess you good readers don't live on this planet then. Well, who needs it anyway?

So I pointed out to her that that just wasn't true. She asked me who would accept this? I told her, "My grandmother, and my cousins Deanna and Candice." She said, "Oh thanks, really nice!" I replied, "Hey, you asked, and they are fine with me, and we keep in touch." She then proceeded to rationalize (ala denial) that my grandma just wants everything to be hunky-dory, and my cousins want to use me as leverage with their family problems. That just made no sense to me at all, so I didn't even go there. Especially the part about my cousins... I mean, leverage? How?

I told her that I didn't want to make everyone upset, but I want to keep in touch with my family. I mean, how long will it take for them to want to talk to me again? Forever? So yes, I said all that, and my mother seemed to soften then. She told me not to send any more photos, and to sign the cards with my "real name," as she put it. (Yes, she knows I had my name changed.)  I might cool it with the photos for a year or two, but the second bit of advice is a no-go. Not only can I not stand anyone calling me by that name (and I've stopped telling people what my former name was quite awhile ago), but to send a letter or card signed in such a way, would only confuse the issue. I can just hear it now:

"Doesn't he know who he is?"
"Why can't he... or she... make up her, uhh his mind?"
"Did he change his name back now?"
"He or she doesn't really know what they're doing and who they want to be!"

Nope. Not doing it. But I didn't tell my mother that. I just "yessed" her to death. There was no point in deliberating any further. To her credit, my mother wasn't overly mean, and she was actually understanding when it came to our money and rent situation. But as far as anything having to do with my "change," so to speak: "How could you do this to everyone?" Same song as the one she sang back in 2003, when I told my parents I'm a transsexual. She sang that song a few more times between then and now. Time to learn a new tune, ma.

What's most important to me now is Nikki and the kids. I can't imagine my life without Nikki. It scares the hell out of me. I've been forced to consider it lately, and that doesn't put me in a good frame of mind. We've been growing closer and closer since last Summer. I'm not sure why, we just have. Maybe the joint therapy sessions really helped. Nikki has been fighting it, which is something she admitted a week or so ago. That explains the fights and the mood-changes. She doesn't want to fight it anymore. It hurts both of us. She's just scared. But who could blame her? She's had such a rough life, from an abusive mother to an abusive ex, and the rest of a family who really seems to care about nobody but themselves.

But I can't help any of that. All I can do is be her present, and her future. All I can do is love her now, and for all my days to come.

And oh, do I.

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Flying Without a Net

Nikki will probably be getting a second job soon. She's already applied, and her prospective employer is calling her references. She's doing this because her main job (working as a substitute teacher) is basically a part-time one, since she has to opt out of so many days, due to having to take the kids to the dentist, doctor, what-have-you, plus there's my appointments every once in awhile, as well as hers. I wish I could get a job, but being transgendered doesn't help, I believe. Nikki also wants to take college courses at night to get her certification in special education. She'd not be working the night job at this time. However...

The one aspect of this that fills me with dread at times is this: I'd be watching the kids solo. Several nights a week. Without a net.

I love them all dearly, but I've only known them for three years. Each one is a handful, in their own special little way (ha ha!).

The oldest one, Sarah, is especially hard to deal with when she has one of her episodes. She's on three different psych meds and she suffers from anxiety and occasional depression. She gets into these temper tantrums where she throws things around, tries to leave the house, and screams the same sentence over and over for at least a half hour straight. It drives me nuts. The last few times I've exploded and said some mean things to her out of anger and frustration. I didn't help the situation.

My anxiety over this might seem ridiculous to some of you, but I don't have that much experience raising kids. Brittany (my biological daughter) only lived with me for the first 18 months of her life, and then I had her for a day and a half every other weekend. My parents were very distant during my childhood. I remember in my teens and twenties telling my mom I loved her, on three or four occasions . It was a struggle for me, and she did reciprocate, but I always had to say it first.

I always look to Nikki for help and backup. But soon she won't be there. I told her a couple nights ago that I couldn't do it. She said she would have to go back to New York, to her abusive ex-husband while she finishes up her schooling. The kids would have to suffer for nine months until she finishes school and can get a full time job and move out. There just aren't any teaching positions for standard education. Michigan has a hold on hiring. They're always looking for special ed teachers though, in many states, if not all.

I had told her I couldn't do it. But we went to therapy together and talked it out. I've decided to try. Who knows, maybe I'll fail. If I do, I'll at least have tried. I would regret it forever if I didn't try, and Nikki and I split up, and the kids and I lost each other.

I may suffer from anxiety. I may experience some depression. I'll have no medication to treat this, and only sessions with Nikki and her therapist to help (it will help, though). I have to do my best, and that's all that anybody should expect of me. Who knows, I may succeed with flying colors. Maybe I'll become a better parent than ever before, now that I don't have Nikki to steal the spotlight, so to speak. We'll see.

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