The Long Way 'Round

Morning comes, and life moves on And when it changed, you didn't know where you belong And I'll still catch you when you fall through a past that steals your sleep And scrawl these words upon your wall, remind you to believe It's been well over a year and a half since I wrote a blog entry, and so much has happened. It had been about a year since I had come out at work, and more than a year of living full time. The magnitude of the changes yet to come, nor their impact, are still something I am grappling with even now. But i am getting ahead of myself. One thing was certain... I had hit a dead end where I was. I had stagnated not just socially, not just career wise, but even in my growth. Back when I had gotten out of rehab, I sat down and wrote out a list changes I had wanted to make and goals I wanted to achieve. Aside from transitioning and living full time, I really hadn't gotten very far. I lost my family, and I was miserable. And then there was the DID, and how I w...

Dissociative identity disorder.  Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder is characterized by alternating between multiple identities. Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices. People with DID will experience gaps in memory of every day events, personal information and trauma. Women are more likely to be diagnosed, as they more frequently present with acute dissociative symptoms. And so begins my long journey since my last blog entry into a chapter, one of which I am still only beginning to grapple with the magnitude and scope of what lies ahead/before me. So much of this is misunderstood and has been mis-characterized in the media, in print, in the movies and on television. People imagine characters like Sybil or recent shows like the United States of Tara and expect in the same way people think of alcohol and drug rehab as Club Med. Its nothing like that. Given my history of trauma from violence from ph...

Several weeks ago I hit a turning point in my journey. I found myself getting angry to the point of blind rage over the very core of my struggle, namely my identity and my notion of self worth. It was blinding me to compassion, to understanding, to seeing things beyond black and white. It was my therapist that pointed this out to me. In the past, whenever she would hit a sensitive spot, I would not react well. I would become defensive, and feel isolated and misunderstood. Something changed this time around. The words were difficult to absorb, the idea of being so angry as to shut out all reason really made me feel like I had failed. What changed this time around was what I took away from her message. I knew she was right. I knew I needed to change. I also knew that my anger was my way of compensating for trauma I have not yet dealt with. Trauma in of itself is difficult enough to face. Trauma as related to being transgender brings me shame and humiliation, and not at least more ...

Not feeling particularly confident today. Not felt this way in a while... Second time I am meeting a new potential client since I've started living full time. Of course I wasn't expecting rainbows and butterflies, that's not how the real world works. Several weeks ago I went to meet a potential new client. I could tell right away that the project manager seemed somewhat confrontational, almost belligerent. I marshaled on, and met the team who I hit it off with. The project was well within my wheelhouse. Now I've been turned down before for gigs -- usually you get back some line like "we don't think the skill sets match" or "we decided to go with someone else". This client made *certain* to send back this response: "Not Interested" Cold. It just threw me for a loop. I tried to get more detail, but to no avail. I'm not one to just ascribe events to who or what I am. When you grow up Jewish you learn to deflect thi...

Like the pine trees lining the winding road I got a name, I got a name Like the singing bird and the croaking toad I got a name, I got a name And I'm gonna go there free I've Got a Name -Jim Croce I've had my femme name since I was 4-5 years old. It became part of my identity. It does  not  even closely match the name my parents gave to me at birth. Some trans-women choose to feminize their male name. I've never understood that. I wouldn't even be bringing this up except it comes up repeated from friend and acquaintances who have known me as "him". The conversation goes something like this: You could have kept the name 'xxxxx', it is a girls name too now days. That is true, I technically could have… Here is thing though… Transitioning is about more than just changing gender presentation, its about resolving the conflict between societal expectations and one’s true authentic self. If you think about it for a moment, the name we...

Today I found out a friend had passed away this weekend. It was sudden, he died of a stroke. I never had the chance to tell him about my new direction I have taken, about my new life that lies ahead of me. His brother-in-law is a childhood friend of mine. I spoke to my friend for quite some time today. I thought it was my friend's brother that had passed, as I feel close to him as well. As I sit here writing this, its not lost on me how many people have come through my life and have impacted me in one way or another. Yet, I sit with growing anger at my own siblings. I am furious at my close friend who I loved like a brother, and who so easily cut me off and discarded me like a snake sheds its own skin. I so want to forgive the way they have treated me, but I have just been unable to do so of late. Last week was my 8 year anniversary of sobriety and abstinence from addiction. To me that sounds so trite, like some tick mark on the calendar of life. But the sudden loss of my fri...

Last week I went through the motions of legal name change. I have been dreaming about this day for so long, and when the time finally came, it was almost anti-climactic. Whats worse, the stress over the last several days of navigating the endless maze of bullshit required to change name/gender markers across every facet of my existence has left me all but running for the exit. Given all of these stressors, it was no surprise that I awoke terrified from another nightmare. Except this time, it was different. And by that, I mean that my dreams took a new direction, one that I had never experience before. It started out simple enough... I was cleaning up the house, something I often do. Even though I hate housework, I love the feeling of putting things right and of getting the place clean. Somehow, things were just off, something was amiss. Everything had a gritty feel in the dream, as if I was in a time/place that time had passed by. I was carrying some items from my bedroom to the ...