A Bowl Full Of Gratitude

One year ago today, I came out to the world. By world, I mean Facebook. It was through this letter that I had written a long time ago and revised and massaged until the day came to post it. The response to that letter was overwhelming and I often return to read the comments. So many things have happened since that day but I want to take the time here, and offer this post as my appreciation to everyone who's made my first year as my authentic self truly memorable. I will write about other topics some other day.

My family was made aware nearly a year before I shared my words on Facebook, in October of 2012. I had told my sisters first, via phone conversations and then I wrote a letter to my parents. I express myself best in writing and I knew that if I called them, I would have lost my nerve and simply carried on in an entirely different line of conversation. At the end of my letter I had asked that they simply reply with a "Got it" so that I knew they had received and read it. The response I got from my mom, on the same day as I had sent the letter, was the following:

          Got it and go with your heart!
          Mom

I cried.

And it still makes me teary eyed seeing those words. I know that my unburdening wasn't easy for any member of my family but despite their own struggle, they still welcomed me in their homes, their arms, their hearts. This includes my nephew and my niece who I love more than a piece of sugar pie in the morning and anyone who knows me knows how much I love sweets for breakfast. It also includes my extended family; grandparents, 17 aunts and uncles, 35 cousins.

My parents decided they would tell their own siblings and in August of 2013, as all the preparations were finalised for my coming out at work, they started calling their brothers and sisters. I know how difficult that was for them. All of a sudden, they were "coming out" to their families and I don't think I can ever make them understand how much I love them for taking that responsibility away from me. As soon as they had told their families, I once again jumped on Facebook - you just have to love Facebook, everyone is on there! - and I told all of my cousins. The responses received are also messages that I return to and re-read. Such positivity and encouragement is always nice to see and they are like a warm hug on a day when spirits are low.

I offer here the first three (English) responses from both sides of the family to highlight just how awesome they have been.

• I support you cousin and understand. Love you much and I wish all the best for you in your journey.
• Still the same awesome person thank you for opening up. You have my support.
• you are amazing for being honest with us and yourself, and i love you no matter what xoxo
• Takes a great person to come out with such a delicate subject. You have my full support and wish you nothing but happiness in the future.
• Allo Serena! I am utterly impressed with your candid honesty and I LOVE the person I have known all along and even more the ever changing person I will get to know going forward! U r brave to the moon and back! Good for you! You are perfect and I love you unconditionally!
• Very courageous thing to say and can't begin to imagine how hard it was to say... But I know that it changes nothing as how I see you or what I think of you... You're still my cousin and nothing changes that... All the best in the future with your new journey!

And a couple of anecdotes just for emphasis.

When I told my niece she was six at the time. I started by reading her a story book called My Princess Boy and when the book had ended, my sister and I explained what it meant and that I was her aunt. She got off my lap, looked at me and asked the question that was most important to her:  "Are you going to wear makeup?" When I replied that I was, she followed that up with a "Me too!" and ran downstairs to tell her big brother the news. How can you not love her to bits!

The second came from the first time I saw my grandparents. Again, I was at my sisters house and we were in the kitchen peeling carrots and potatoes for dinner when they arrived. My grandmother walked up to me, gave me a big hug while looking up into my eyes and she says: "You know this changes nothing right? We're still a family!" I only managed to keep from crying by squeezing her a little harder and then turning back to the task of peeling the carrots. Now I allow myself to let the happy tears flow.

I have lost friends along the way and yes, there is the famous saying that they weren't true friends to begin with but it stings nonetheless. However, the friends that remained far outweigh those I have lost. I have so many of my old friends which have carried on with the friendship as though nothing has changed and for that, I am extremely grateful. I have also made a number of new friends, some of whom I've grown quite close to and who have helped me through some of my terribly low moments with their words and their presence. Many have provided clothing. Others provided makeup or hair advice while others answered question after question about everything and nothing.

I have had indescribable moments of utter and complete closeness with my family. I have had terrific moments such as attending my little sister's wedding while feeling happy and pretty and wearing a dress (trivial but oh so good!) I have had moments of giddiness (I'm like a 15 year old going through puberty!) such as having a man tell me I was a "very gorgeous woman" as he held the door open for me. I have had silly moments, many many silly moments and I loved them all.

One thing I have always been terrible at was accepting a compliment. A compliment my way meant a sarcastic response sent your way. I apologize if I have ever dismissed a compliment you gave me. Sarcasm was a way to deflect, especially if the compliment was about my former appearance and I got incredibly good at it that it became my default reaction. Now, with the help of a friend, I am getting out of the habit of deflecting and am simply accepting. I have been learning to accept compliments without a retort of sarcasm and that a simple "thank you" is all that is needed as a reply to someone's kind words.

Everything you all have done for me over the last year is a gesture kindness and the greatest of compliments. To each and everyone of you, from the bottom of my heart, I offer the largest thank you I have ever given.

Really, truly, Thank You!

Novocaine For The Soul

"Do you know what it's like to fall on the floor

Cry your guts out 'til you got no more?

Hey man, now you're really living"

- Eels

There was a terrible slump there for a while and every now and again the downhill is exceedingly slick making it a difficult struggle to climb back to the top. Thankfully, as of late, the top is more of a plateau as opposed to a pin point which allows for much longer durations of time there. I can settle down, lie on a blanket while looking up at the clouds, and contemplate a new future.

"I believe you have one shot at true love and if you are inaccurate in your first attempt, you correct the angle, fix the trajectory and try again. I had my true love. My Cupid’s arrow was true and I am now left holding the bow along with an empty quiver. The wood of the bow is worn now and it no longer serves Love’s purpose but it has no reservations at filling the skin of my fingers with splinters, little reminders of moments passed. The string is frayed and broken in the middle, hanging in two separate pieces that will no longer hold hands and would rather carry on with their backs to each other. My Cupid has long left, his wings sit in the corner covered in a thick layer of dust and a note that reads 'Best of luck, my work is done here!'"

I wrote that above paragraph during one of those low moments.

I had to let go of the person I loved and adored for seventeen years. There is still much I would like to say to her, and do with her. My arms miss the feeling of being wrapped around her body but those days are gone and I'm left clutching air in the circle of my embrace. You can't escape into another room, shut the door behind you, and remove yourself from those feelings. They are ingrained in you; imprinted on your soul, embedded in your heart, and silk-screened on your mind. I acted brave and strong and faced the days but the evenings were spent reliving and rehashing those memories and in those moments you would find me crumpled on the floor, unable to get up, with tears pouring out of me with each passing thought of her.

"Hey man, now you're really living"

Never did that lyric make sense to me as it does now. I am not saying I wasn't living then as that would diminish my love for her and tarnish all that we accomplished together. But it was a main course of surviving with a healthy side of living. My thoughts were always with the hurt that I had caused. With the anger that I had caused. With this whole mess that I had caused. I thought of myself in terms of liar and deceiver and ungrateful. Ungrateful; because her love saved me. I felt defective and undeserving and I was in a terrible frame of mind when she opened her heart and let me in. I had trouble shaking the idea that this was how I was thanking her for that love.

I had to refocus my attention on my own aching and face that the space she kept in the jacket pocket of my heart was now empty. The seams are worn and there is a permanent impression on the surface of the pocket, a faded ghost of her memory. The deflated look of the pocket serves as an indication that her own feelings and emotions went along with her and that I no longer have any capacity over them. Dwelling on what I imagined I caused was preventing me from getting up off the floor. It was with the numerous tears I shed that I began living.

Lately, I have been incredibly busy, always having something to do and I enjoy those moments. The terrifying parts are those scarce times of solitude which feel incredibly lonely and they are deepened by the realisation that no one is coming home to relieve me of this feeling. No one with whom I can share my stories of the day, or who could just wrap their arms around me and erase the loneliness with their brush of comfortable togetherness. The prospect of finding love anew is daunting. I find myself at the beginning and frightened that my past history will make love unattainable.

Despite that, I believe I am ready to try.

Dear Dave

Dear Mr. Raymond,

Yes, I know, call me Dave. Sorry, I tend to forget that.

Dear Dave,

I am writing this letter from my heart to yours. Today I had to say goodbye to you but I clearly remember the first day I met you. I walked into your home with Scott and you met us at the door with a firm handshake, an easy smile, and a greeting as though we had been friends from long ago. I am timid when I first meet someone new and I use humour to break the ice. You broke the ice first and from that instant, I couldn't wait until the next time I came over.

We spent many Sunday afternoons together, in anticipation of one of Trudy's delicious home cooked meals. We filled the time with games of catch or backyard football and you entertained us with your silly jokes that we just couldn't help ourselves but laugh at. You regaled us with stories of fishing, and of umpiring.  But you were humble, my friend, as I only now found out you made the Little League Hall of Fame and your name is there, among the greats, in Cooperstown, NY. How I never knew this after eighteen years of being part of your family eludes me but it is a testament to who you were; someone who put others before himself and expected nothing in return. You were kind and caring and your love of life was infectious. Your legacy is in good hands with Scott and Sarah.

Writing that previous paragraph, it is striking that it has been eighteen years, nearly half of my life. But that is how many years I got to share moments with you and I hold them all dearly. I didn't call you and Trudy my Ottawa dad and mom for no reason. My parents, as loving and caring as they are, are in a different city 600km away and at times I needed more than a phone call and at those times you were there for me. You saw me laugh, you saw me cry, you saw my high moments and my low moments. No matter the condition I came in, you were always happy to welcome me into your home and for that I am forever grateful.

When I first heard of your debilitating condition, I was saddened not just for you but for everyone in your family and for anyone who would miss the opportunity of getting to know you. I was also selfishly saddened for myself. Getting to know you was a joy in my life and I wouldn't trade it away, even for a Babe Ruth rookie card. I will miss our conversations, your advice, your bright spirit. I wish I could have introduced you to my true self, I just know we would have gotten along splendidly.

You are a role model for many, an inspiration to many others. I will miss you dear friend. And when I see you next, I want one of those handshakes, and then I want a hug.

With all my love,
:: Serena

Thank You, I'm Sorry

Dear Serge,

Thank you for letting me live, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

Thank you for allowing me to feel love and to love in return, I’m sorry that I never loved you.

Everything I have, I owe to you.

Thank you.

But I had to let you go.

I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Serena

For Posterity: Hello World

(first posted on Facebook on September 5, 2013 - I add it here as it is a big part of my moments)

"Hello World!"

Anyone who has ever taken a course in a programming language will tell you that one of the first pieces of code you write has, as its sole purpose, to output the sentence “Hello World!” onto the screen.  If someone was to think on a philosophical level as opposed to one of logic, they would come to understand as I have that what we did in that moment was nothing short of magical; with those few lines of semantics and instructions we gave a lifeless entity a voice.

"Hello World!"

That is my voice, long buried with the hurt, rumbling from my chest, creeping up my throat only to be obstructed by clenched teeth and tight lips that for so many years have played sentry, instructed to prevent any mutinous word to escape.  With time, the defences put in place start to weaken and those lips that have so often hid the truth with their smile, part to let the words of liberation escape and float upon the air:

"Hello world, I am transgender."

My entire life I have been surrounded by a loving family, by the best of friends a person can ask for yet the feeling of the body being disjointed from the mind was a nagging constant.  As a child, I didn't have the language to express how I felt but even if I did, I was conscious enough to know that it was unwise to speak these things out loud.  With my secret safely locked away in my core, my heart and soul withered but my shell grew a thick layer of crafted confidence; just please, don't ask me how I am feeling, I will sell you a lie.  I played my part on the stage of life and I fit in well.  There was no bullying, there was no mocking.  Not from others.  There was also no honesty with myself, my self-deprecation was my bully.  My mind was my tormentor.  My body was my persecutor.

Every night as I lay in bed, my youthful naivety allowed me to ask god to make me whole, to let me wake up as I should have been born.  Come morning, a peek beneath the sheets revealed that nothing had changed leading me to alter my tactics and instead I prayed for my mind to be fixed because something was obviously broken.  Come morning I would tell myself "I'm a boy!" but the words painted me in every shade of wrong.  With my last bit of remaining faith, and with the youthful innocence long vanished, I asked one last thing of god, to please bring me death.

And yet here I am.

I was angry then.  I collected dark thoughts and locked them away with my secret; these new twisted characters that accompanied me on my journey. The laugh practised to perfection, the sarcasm aimed at others as a protective shield.  I never imagined a happy ending for myself but each day I survived; grade school, high school, university.  University, a study in self-discovery with a few detours in the wrong direction.  I found it then, the name for what I was feeling:  Transgender.  Trans, as in opposite of.  Of all the subjects I took in school this was the hardest to grasp.  Trans, as in across of.  It was mine to live with now and knowledge was not power, it was despair.  Trans, as in not normal.

Nowhere is it defined as such but in that instant, it fit.  Not normal.

But then university had a surprise for me, it brought me love.  My secret felt easier to carry with her around, never forgotten, never spoken, but buried deeper.  Those dark characters that travelled with me died the fate they were destined to have; one jumped off a roof, one overdosed, one hung itself.  Stripping it down to its very essence, the love I never believed would be directed towards me, that love, saved my life.

I successfully received my University degree, I had a good paying job, I was married to the one I love, we had our own house, two cars and a dog.  That, I told myself, would be the end of the miscommunication between mind and body.  This had to be the cure.  After all, I had done what many other men set out to do and ergo, I am a man.  So why was I still feeling this way?  Hadn't I done all that was expected of me?  What have I done to deserve this?  Is being "normal" too much to ask for?

This was my normal.  Closets, no matter how large or how small, are designed to keep you lost and guessing.  They deprive you of all your senses except your thought processes and the constant ebb and flow of the coming out or staying in tides will drive anyone mad.  I have truly known that I was different from the age of 10, possibly younger but those memories are but skin left behind on the pavement after a tumble, long forgotten and scabbed over.  I knew I was transgender from the moment I read the definition written in a most ugly shade of green in an LGBT flyer.  That being said, admitting it to yourself and accepting it for what it is, is an entirely different concept than telling someone you love and care about. 

I had asked god to take my life, I had thoughts of taking my own, and not once before 1996 had I ever thought I would live to see my own version of a near story book ending.  But I'm right here, I made it and I'm writing you this letter.  It will leave many of you wondering but just know this, despite any changes in appearance, I am the same person that I was before you started reading this letter and now that you have reached the conclusion, you are being introduced to a truer self of me.  I am ready to start living the complete truth now, with all of you by my side.  I am Serena, transgender woman, and I am pleased to meet you.

"Hello Word!"

Dancing With The Girl In The Mirror

I caught my reflection in the mirror the other day and the woman looking back at me smiled.  At that moment I realized what loving yourself actually meant.

I winked my approval and carried on with my day.