Feel your feels

For the past number of months I’ve been seeing a similar thread in my readings, in my searching for inner peace and calm and personal growth, even my therapist has been trying to get this notion through my stubborn head. I may be a very emotional person, but I still have a mind that wants answers and rationality, and the thread that keeps popping up over and over just didn’t fit that, it didn’t give me something I could understand, figure out.

But as the thread kept coming back at me, from so many different angles, I decided to give it a try.

Feel your feels is a term I first heard from my ex, an uber rational, ignore all feelings type of person, as she received that advice from the outside, and it immediately struck me as true, and I realized that it was something I had always done automatically. I truly experience my emotions, bathe in them, explore them and question them, let them flow over me and revel in the beauty they can bring me.

My mistake, my defense mechanism, was that when it was bad feelings flooding me, I’d do everything in my power to ignore them, to get rid of them, to hide from them, to rationalize them away, to explain to myself why those feelings weren’t valid, that I didn’t need to feel them or go through the pain of living with them. That they weren’t real. And as they hit, I’d do my best to distract myself or just grit my teeth and bear them.

In doing this, over and over again throughout the years, using every means I had possible including the green cloud, I never learned to accept the dark aspects of myself, the negative emotions, and as a result, I gave them incredible power over me. I saw them as something external, something to be avoided at all costs and something that I could hide from. Try to ignore the elephant in the room and that’s all you can think of.

But then, I started to sit with my feelings, instead of cringing and running when my dark shadow came to visit, I let it in, apprehensively yes, but I allowed it its place. I examined the feelings it could create within me, and I embraced them, I held them to my heart, and I told them

“everything will be OK”

I imagined a light within me, coming into me through my breath, infusing that darkness, that fear, that anxiety, with love. Comforting that aspect of myself, because that’s what it truly is, simply a part of me. As I embraced this darkness, something beautiful happened, it began to fade. Sometimes it would simply pass, other times I would break down and unleash a torrent of healing tears, but at the end, it faded. It didn’t hold onto me for days, or months, I let it in, I suffused it with love, and I let it move on.

Being sad is as natural as being happy, part of the human condition, and expecting to have a life without sadness is simply…. not human.

This is my new definition of processing your feelings. Talking about it helps immensely, and I still do this when I feel the need to do so, but ultimately, it’s up to each of us to accept our darkness, to embrace it.

When we run from our dark shadows, our anxieties, our fears, our sadness and hopelessness, all we learn is that these feelings are wrong, and we gear our life towards never feeling those things again. How we do this can happen in a myriad of ways, avoidance, drugs, constant distraction, over work, living in a fantasy life, sex, all things designed to stop us from actually living our full potential, experiencing all that the human condition, this life that we have been blessed with, has to offer. But as a result, we live less, we lose confidence in ourselves and our abilities to handle life, we block ourselves off from the full potential of who and what we can be, we run from intimacy or relationships, or even worse, we stay in relationships, both platonic and intimate, out of fear of feeling those feelings, thinking that they will never let us go, that they will control us the rest of our lives.

But when we let them in, give them a place to sit, and show them love regardless, what we are doing is showing love to ourselves.

These feelings are as much a part of us as the joy that we can feel. They make us who we are, they complete us, and as the old adage goes, there is no light without darkness


Full circle

It’s nice to be back out here in Victoria, a place that I wrote about a few times three years ago, a special place for me.

Also, the place that he died.

When I tell my story, I often say that he went to Victoria and never came back, I came back instead. After my last trip here, I was in therapy less than a month later, my old in laws had found out about me, choices were being made, everything started changing, and I entered into the final stretch.

Hanging out with a friend last night, one that I had met during my catalyst trip, she mentioned how it was clear to her that I was going through a major evolution back then, when we met. I was shifting, the boulder was screaming down the hill and picking up speed.

After just three months of therapy I had my letter, three months later I had started hormones, and if I hadn’t come here when I had, I can’t say that it would have progressed as fast as it had. It was going to happen, that’s a given at that point in my life, but that trip really sped things up. It solidified the need to transition, made me realize I could no longer wait, could no longer put it off until I was ready.

We’re never truly ready for any major life change after all

I remember sitting in the Victoria airport waiting to board to head home, talking to Becca, I was in tears, she was scared. So much had happened to me while I was here, so many new experiences and feelings.

I remember asking her, ‘could you ever love Dawn?’, and she gave me that final answer


I asked again and again, tears streaming down my face, people glancing at me out of the corners of their eyes. The answer never changed

she knew something had happened while I was here, she knew something had shifted in me, changed, and it wasn’t going back

It was here that Dawn felt love for the first time, not tolerance, not acceptance, but actual love, and I knew I could never accept less in my life, especially in the life that I was going to enter. I didn’t want to see pain in her eyes everytime she looked at me, feel her body tense up when I held her or stole a kiss, I didn’t want to do that to her or to myself. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us, and she had been through enough in her journey with me

Even though we kept trying and kept trying up until the final day, looking back, I think everything ended that morning, sitting in the airport, at gate 11, sobbing into my phone, not caring who saw or who heard, trying to hold onto hope, onto my old life, trying to find a way to be myself and still be with her, knowing that it wasn’t to be. She knew she had lost me, lost him, and she was never going to see him again


so now, almost three years later, I’m back, and this time I’m me, a person who has been here before yet in some ways, it’s my first time here. I expected it to feel stranger than it has so far, I expected to be flooded with emotions, with a sense of loss, but instead I’ve been calm. This really is a lovely town, friendly, open, pretty and clean.

I go back to my favorite little restaurants and bars, experiencing them again for the first time. I wander the streets that I’ve wandered before, seeing them in a new light, with a new sense of peace in my soul. No longer afraid that it may all end, no longer counting the minutes until I had to go back to somewhere where I couldn’t be myself every day, every minute.

I wander through the shipyard doing my work, comfortable in my surroundings, zipping through the ship like an old pro, taking my place. Seeing old faces that I remember interacting with, enjoying their looks of faint and confused recognition. I pass by, the ghost of my former self drifting behind me

I see places that I visited with Becca when she came here with me while on business…. and I smile, and miss those times, and think of her, of us. I see her beside me, beside him, laughing, exploring. Darth Vader playing violin on the corner of Government street, the market, the photography store, our love

I reconnect with friends that I had made on my previous trips, it’s been almost three years, yet it feels that almost no time has passed. Thoughts of my journey over this time slice, realizing how different I now am, yet looking out of the same eyes that met these people and saw this town not that long ago.

Completely different, yet completely the same, as though a part of me never left

and in a way, that’s true

I’ve come full circle, to my birthplace, and to my grave

thank you Don, Elody, Rayne

thank you Victoria

I’ll be back one day

I promise

Cyclical Meanderings…. part 11…. Pills

It’s a thought I’ve had before, just came into a bit more clarity today.

I take a lot of medication each day, and I’m heading to my pharmacist tomorrow to renew my prescriptions and add yet another pill to my daily routine.

Granted, two of the pills I take are for my back problems, I could probably cut them out at this point, haven’t had much out-of-the-ordinary pain in a while, only get sore when a 37 year old person should get sore, but I guess I’m a little worried that my back problems will return seriously if I remove them from my regimen, scared to try.

One other pill is to protect my stomach from all the other medication I take.

The rest is all due to HRT, hormone replacement therapy for those who don’t recognize the acronym.

I take my anti-androgen, commonly known as a testosterone blocker, cause my body keeps making that crap and I need something else to absorb it. I take finasteride whose side effect is to eat testosterone after it has morphed into a different version, which also helps thicken my hair, counteract the loss I had already sustained before I started my real life. I have my estrogen patches which alter my inner chemicals to those of a cis woman, help my mind relax, help my body change, and have been so good to me so far…. seriously, I know I’m lucky, E has done wonderful things to me and my system has taken to it like a fish out of water.

I’m going to be adding progesterone tomorrow, another naturally occurring chemical in a cis woman’s system, which doesn’t have enough data to prove anything conclusively for us trans women, but anecdotal evidence has shown that it can greatly help in breast development (which I’m doing fine on, but hey, a little more would be nice), can raise energy (which I often lack), and raise libido (which I have almost none of). So why not, give it a shot, see what happens.

What if…. one day…. I can’t get access to all of this. Our medical system switches from the socialist system we (luckily) have to something more like our neighbors to the south, or I lose my job and won’t be covered at the rate that I am and wouldn’t be able to afford it all, or absolute worst scenario, our society completely crumbles and medication like this becomes a thing of the past as the remains of civilization simply fights to survive, real post apocalyptic shit.

Who would I be?, what would I be?, how would I be perceived?

My body at this point is somewhat locked in, I’ve been on the ‘juice’ for long enough, but an experiment I ran last year in cutting my T blockers by half has already shown me that reducing the medication in my system makes for some rapid changes in my mood, my body’s workings, the way I feel about myself. I wouldn’t lose all of the changes that have already happened in my body, but some would revert, like any woman going through menopause, their breasts shrink and lose some fullness, body hair can start growing as the ratio between testosterone and estrogen changes, skin changes, smells and sweat increase, the body essentially…. masculinises.

Would I still feel like me?, would I still be seen as the woman I am?. I abhor the way that testosterone makes me feel, this I know to an absolute certainty, but if I had no choice, what would my identity be?

It’s a very strange thing to feel that my life depends on medication……

…. but then I tell myself, lots of people depend on medication to live, people with serious diabetes, people with heart conditions, people with manageable diseases or sicknesses, all of these people need pills and modern science to live, to survive.

The difference with someone like me…. is that I would continue to live…. I don’t need this to physically survive…. I need this to live the life I want, the life that is right for me, the life I should have had.

And for whatever reason, that makes me feel like it’s slightly less legitimate than someone who would literally die without their pills, not counting suicide that is….

But isn’t life more than simply survival?, well, I guess in the post apocalyptic scenario, it isn’t, it truly is about survival, but that’s not where we are in this world, the world that I’m privileged enough to inhabit, to have always inhabited. I’m not out for survival, I’m out to actually fucking live. My privilege showing…..

Before I started HRT, I knew I should have been a woman, part of me had always been a woman, and most likely, I would have offed myself if I couldn’t or didn’t transition at one point. Now that I’m more than two years in, I simply could not imagine my life without the internal feelings that I have, the chemical balance that keeps me sane, incredibly emotional yes, but sane. This makes me completely dependent upon my meds, and I don’t like being dependent on things.

I don’t want to be dependent upon our medical system to let me be who I am. I don’t want to be dependent on my medical insurance to make who I am affordable.


I am

Simple fact of the matter is that…. I am.

Who would I be without my medication?… I suppose I’d still be me, I’d still maintain my identity, but I’d have to fight for it more and more, both with society and the eyes of others, and with myself. This is a fight I deal with daily… and it would just become a tougher fight… not one I’d be keen in attempting… not one I’m sure that I’d have the strength to win

Makes me think of my bubbles post from a few months back, we are who society allows us to be, regardless of who we actually are, unless we are ready to be shat upon by society at every turn…. and I’m not. I’m not that strong…. then again, I may be, I just haven’t had to be that strong yet…. my privilege makes my weird life relatively easy, regardless of how strong people perceive me to be, regardless of the battles I have to fight….

I have no real answer to this, sorry to those who were expecting me to have some sort of revelation here….


It’s weird being trans

What do you want?

I met this really cool chick randomly at a show recently, hit it off (in a fully platonic way), found myself at her place a week later enjoying a couple bottles of wine and a lovely home cooked meal, and chitchatting non stop like I have a habit of doing.

As seems to be more and more common with me these days, I meet another like me, a thinker, an introspective person, and one who loves to share and open up with deep and meaningful conversations.

She made an interesting observation, how of course right now I’m not finding what I want in relationships, because I don’t necessarily know what I want. I’ve tried casual sleeping around, a more regular relationship with a guy who wasn’t a good fit for me, a crazy poly mixed up relationship, and now I’m experimenting with actual no-future-possible casual dating. She stated I’m in a place of ambiguity, trying things on for size, discarding them when I find they don’t fit, and moving on. Which is absolutely normal for a woman who is learning her place in life, and I most definitely should not judge myself for not having found where I fit just yet.

She then dropped a bomb on me, looking at me right in the eyes, she utters those powerful words, words I’ve written about before


What Do You Want?


I chuckle, grin, feeling the words. Laughing sheepishly, I reply “I just want to be happy”…. knowing it’s the wrong answer…. knowing things don’t work that way, life doesn’t work that way. She barks a frustrated laugh at me and pretends to slap me across the face. I acquiesce that I know it’s not a useful answer, that life isn’t a mountain to climb and once you get to the top you can stop trying.

Even though a part of me keeps on wishing that’s how it worked…. wouldn’t that make things so easy?…. wasn’t that what we were taught when we were little?…. you do this, you do that, you check off all these little boxes, and you’ll be happy, you’ll have what you want, you’ll be able to stop trying and fighting….

The journey itself is the key, not the end. There is no goal to reach except for those goals we set ourselves, and once we hit each of these goals, we don’t stop, we can’t stop, we just keep going, making new goals, having new experiences, constantly changing, evolving. Scary as fuck to be honest….

She told me that she would give me a month, she would ask me the same question on May 18th. Dawn, what do you want?. She didn’t expect a full answer, she knows it’s a difficult question, but she wanted me to think about it, get something down on paper, give it a shot.

I find it beautiful how life seems to throw what you need at you when you need it, whether you know it or not, this is a huge pattern in my life, and I’m sure if others look for this they’ll be able to see the patterns as well.

So I’ve been thinking, starting in my mind, letting it slip away, trying on different ideas. I’m still not sure how I want to answer this, but I will explore it, it is something I want to do. Trying not to slip into the classic pitfalls, trying not to attach it to material gains like so many of us lead our lives, like I used to and never found peace on that path.

Time to think

What do I want?

The Lesson

I know my lesson now, why she came into my life, why I loved her, why I needed to know her and to go through this experience.

One of the most powerful, and difficult lessons to learn I believe. Something that I still need to work on, something that will take time and practice, something that wont happen overnight, especially for someone as sensitive and emotional as myself.

The lesson of forgiveness

Forgiving others, and forgiving yourself.

After the events that transpired over the weekend sunk in, and as I wrote, my thoughts kept coming back to the parallel between this situation and what happened between me and my ex wife.

I thought I had made my peace with her, obviously, I had not, at least not fully.

As I forgave Mara, I found myself realizing, that if I can forgive her, I can forgive me. Forgive myself for the pain I caused in Becca, knowing what I did was not right, was not fair, just as what Mara put me through was not right, or not fair, but forgiving none the less.

I still feel a weight on my shoulders, a lump in my throat, and heaviness in my heart, but that too will pass.

I may finally be able to let go of my past, as they both let go of theirs, the chains that it holds on me, the suffering that I allow it to cause my soul, and be free to move forward, onward, into whatever awaits me, whatever I create for myself.

Ladies, I owe you both so much, and I thank you and honor you for being such important parts of my life, and I love you both dearly.

And to myself, I love you Dawn

I forgive you

Catalysts and gratitude and closure

There’s an old adage which goes something like:

Each person that comes into your life does so for a reason, either you will change them, or they will change you.

It all sounds lovely and pretty and spiritual, but when it comes down to reality, there can be a lot of pain involved in this process.

Because it can really suck when you are the changer, and someone you loved deeply but could no longer be with, is the one changed for the better. Even, perhaps, one day, changed into the person or type of person that would be an incredible fit for you, but too late to be in your life anymore as you move forwards.

Early into our relationship, she told me that I would change everything. Looks like she may have been right.

I just didn’t want it to happen the way it did. I wanted us to grow and change together, but that was impossible. We were in two very different places in our own personal development, and it’s almost always impossible to go through serious personal changes when you are with someone that you love and who loves you. It usually spells the end of the relationship as one persons path veers off and the other holds onto the person they fell in love with, a person that usually no longer exists.

I learned some information recently, information granted freely, information I had wanted, but I had never thought it would have cut me so deeply. I honestly thought I would have been happy to hear what I did, but instead, I spent much of the next few days in tears, in anger, mired in self pity, lost to myself. I can still feel the emotions trying to burst through even though they aren’t as terrible.

If she plays her cards right, and is strong enough, she will have gained so much from this relationship, from knowing and loving me and having me love her in return. It could be deeply transformative, and in ways that she truly needs and has needed for a very long time.

She met me for a reason.

Why did I meet her?

I’ve been angry and felt cheated, used, taken advantage of over this. Plunged back into darkness and loss. Feeling the imbalance of it all, the unfairness of the situation as I perceive it. What life changing lessons have I learned?, how have I been positively altered from this experience?

What can I take away from this to make my life better?

I struggle to answer those questions.

My circle tells me that I tried something completely out of my comfort zone which should be commended, and that I’m going through the mourning and healing process incredibly well, but that most importantly, I was able to say “no more” and let things end. They tell me this definitely is a life changing experience, and that it will help me listen to myself closer, love myself more, put myself first and make my needs important, and eventually, make better choices in a partner in the future. Someone who is at my level, and will be able to grow with me, instead of someone who is just starting on the path of self awareness.

One part of me knows they’re right, but at the same time, I still feel cheated. Did I have to endure this much pain and confusion just to learn those simple lessons?, lessons that I’ll most likely screw up on a few more times until I start to get it right….

Perhaps the lessons aren’t as simple as I make them out to be.

One thing I do know that I have received from this is the knowledge that I don’t love myself the way that I deserve. Prior to this event, the concept of self care and self maintenance was alien to me. I gave myself what I needed to get by, and the rest, I searched for from others. I would take care of myself only when I truly needed it, when my body was failing, when emergencies and crises demanded it, but as I felt better, and healed, I would stop, and always go back to the bare minimum. I would create my own waves of happiness and depression, not even knowing that I was doing it, not realizing the damage I was doing to myself.

Saying enough was a good start, taking care of my body through excercise, activity, eating well and drinking less in another good step, filling my mind with positive and helpful guidance, exploring the peace and personal reprogramming that can occur through meditation, taking time to be with myself instead of living a life of distraction, all useful and positive activities. But I still have to force myself to do these things, even though I know they help me, they aren’t natural to me.

This whole situation has gotten me thinking about my past relationships as well. I’ve been the catalyst for many people in my life, who are no longer in my life, and I’ve sometimes bitched about not having had my own catalyst. Who was going to do for me what I’ve done for so many others?

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Without the love and support from my ex wife, I would never have been born. She gave me my life through her support, she allowed me to become who I am now even though it hurt her. She persevered because she knew it was the right thing to do and she loved me deeply, and wanted only the best for me, encouraging me to do what was right for me, giving me that love that I could not give myself… not because she was getting anything out of it, quite the opposite in fact, considering I killed her husband.

I’ve known this, felt this, for a while now, the guilt at what I put her through, but this recent experience has put it into a different perspective for me, it hits deeper.

I gained the world, my soul, my life from her, and what did I do for her?, what life altering positive changes did I make in her after our seven year relationship?

I hope there were some, I hope she got something out of being with me, but I definitely gained the most, what more is there than ones life, ones soul. I gained my fucking life because of her, and to thank her, I treated her badly because of my own misery, and I took the love of her life away from her, permanently.

I clearly know why she came into my life, and I wonder if she asked herself the same questions as I’m doing now when we separated. She gave me seven years of her life, and they weren’t always easy, not in the least. I only gave Mara five and a half months.

She will be in my heart and in my thoughts until the day I die, I will always love her and hold those memories deep inside me, and cherish them. I will always wish her the best, and pray that she is happy, that she has everything she wants, everything her beautiful soul desires, and that she will live a long and glorious life. The gratitude that I feel towards her cannot be measured. Yet as much as I wish I could say these words to her in person, show her the woman that I’ve become, that she helped create, fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness, I’ll never contact her, or send her an email, or call her, I’ll never risk giving her one more iota of pain than I already have. That is the last thing she deserves.


I’ve been futzing over this piece for a week now, the events described above, the information gained, which triggered all of this, was back then. Since that time, other events have occurred, which while were not desired, and made the pain I felt last week feel like a pinprick compared to how I felt this past weekend, gave me a chance to say my final words to her, words I wished I could have said when we were breaking up, breaking apart. I’m still ashamed at how that happened, that I couldn’t be the one to say it, that I needed her strength to cut the cord that tied us so tightly together. I’m ashamed at not being able to control my emotions, to not be able to rationally explain what was in my heart.

But now they have been spoken, and transmitted, and while I know they will sting in certain ways, I pray that they will help her move forward, and grow, no matter how devastating that growth may be. Part of me wanted to lash out, to slice her to ribbons, but I couldn’t, I didn’t want to be that person. Pain does not cure pain, only love does. So instead of pain, I gave her what I feel is the last gift I’ll give her, wrapped up in my words.

And the door is closed


and for the first time since all of this has happened…

I truly miss her…

her smile, her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes, her mind, her body pressed to mine as we fell asleep together, holding her tight and her sighing in true bliss as she nestled herself against me

I miss her terribly

but our story is finished

Cyclical meanderings…. part 10…. Happy Second Birthday Dawn

I’m a few hours late, sue me….

I’ve been wanting to write a two year post all week, started a few times at work, never felt like it was going the way I wanted to, forgot about it, usual stuff. So I’m just gonna write, see what comes out.

For those who know that my “standard” birthday is end of November, I’m talking about my HRT start date, two years ago today.

Yup, two years already, boobs looks great, hehehehe

The main thread that’s been going through my head this past week, or maybe even a little longer than that, is a conflicted mixup of how much has happened to me over these past two years, contrasted with the anxiety that I feel like I’m wasting precious time. I’ve probably had more experiences in this relatively short period of my life than I’ve had in the past twenty years, yet, I still have that bad habit of judging myself for not being where I want to be, even though that concept keeps shifting around in my head. I used to be where I thought I wanted to be, wife, house, planning a family, and I had that chance again recently…. although granted, not in the way I had expected…. yet I was still not at ease. It felt wonderful, yet at the same time, it didn’t feel right.

It’s better that I’m me now, although in some ways, that makes it tougher, I’m me, but fuck, I’m twenty years behind!.

Part of me is still searching for something, searching for me, who am I?, what do I want?

Pretty much everyone knows that I’m really hung up on age, and I know this whole “I’m not where I should be” concept plays a heavy role in that hangup. I feel like there is a clock ticking inside me, and it’s bloody aggravating.

I may be mid / late 30s now, but in so many ways, I’m still a teenager, learning to navigate the world as a whole person now, not a false shell, an actor, learning things that most women learn in their teens or early twenties, how to love yourself truly, how to care for yourself, how to stop falling for the wrong type of people and stand up for what you want. How to not settle, like I’ve done so often in my life, and I realize that I continue to do it when it comes to romantic connections.

I feel often like I’ve been wasting these past two years, shouldn’t I be planning my future with my partner by now?, after all, he didn’t have much trouble finding a partner to plan a future with, all of my relationships in my previous life were serious ones, but of course….. I wasn’t me….. I was playing a part, living a story given to me by Disney, by my partners, by my expectations of what life is supposed to be, not always what I wanted, because I didn’t truly know what I wanted, and definitely not always what felt right.

But then I focus on everything that I have been through these past two years, losing a wife and family, making new and varied friends, trying new things, new ways of life, feeling anxiety and facing it head on, falling in love and getting my heart broken, exploring new hobbies, removing people from my life that no longer help me to grow, trying my hand at a new style of relationship, truly feeling for the first time I had found my soulmate, then, not too long afterwards, realizing I had it all wrong, that I was falling into old patterns of settling and letting myself be walked over, then finally standing up and saying “no more”. Exploring the spirituality that I’ve always felt within myself, trying new things on my own and for myself instead of for others or to make a partner happy. Embracing my true nature, accepting it, living this fast paced life that I’ve found myself in, enjoying that I don’t really know what’s coming next. Meeting someone new, knowing it’s not a possibility of forever, and actually being OK with that for once, still enjoying the exploration.

I don’t think I’ve ever gone through so many profound changes in who I am ever in my life, let alone in 700ish short days.

So no wonder I’m confused, no wonder I can feel overwhelmed and lost sometimes, because I am, and that’s OK, there’s nothing wrong with being lost sometimes, as long as you continue to move, to change, to evolve. I thought what I knew in the past and made acquiring that my mission, now I don’t know what I want, and I think I’m becoming OK with that. My mission now is simply to live, one day at a time, and see what life brings me.

I always sought to make a story with a partner, I feel I still want to do that at one point, but right now, in this period in my life, it’s time to finally make my own story. Be the starring character, without sharing the spotlight, write a few chapters completely on my own, and when I say on my own I don’t mean completely solitary, after all I have a huge amount of amazing people in my life right now and they will all be characters in my play as I am in theirs, but without a primary partner, which, let’s face it, is a pretty foreign concept for me.

When the time is right, when my spotlight shines bright enough, the right person will join their own fierce light to mine, and it will be magnificent, and maybe by then I’ll know where I want to proceed to, but for now….. the stage is mine.


yup, this was as confusing as I expected it to be


A conversation with a four year old

I went to see a friend of mine last night to catch up, wonderful guy, married to a lovely woman, and they happen to have one of the coolest, smartest, most mind-blowingly awesome four year olds in existence.

While chatting over dinner, can’t really recall exactly how it came up, the whisky was flowing well, my ex wife was mentioned.

The little one looked a little sad and asked me why wasn’t I with her anymore?

“Well sweetie”, I reply, “she didn’t like girls and couldn’t be married to one”

This just got me a look of complete bewilderment

“You know that most girls like boys, and that most boys like girls, and there are some girls that like girls, and there are some boys that like boys right?”

A nod of the head

“Well, when I became a girl, she didn’t want to be married to me anymore because she didn’t like girls that way”

“Because you used to be a boy?”


Her eyebrows scrunched up as she processed this new information.

“So when you were little you were a boy?”


“So some boys grow up and become girls?”

“Well… something like that. I always had the brain of a girl, and the heart of a girl, so I changed my body to be that of a girl so I could be happier”


“So I could grow up to become a boy?”

That got a good laugh out of all of us.

We all took time explaining to her how some of us feel wrong inside our bodies, so we change to be the other gender, and that there are some people who don’t feel like either gender so they find a comfortable place in the middle.

I reminded her of the trans women’s writers night that I spoke at a few months ago and her and her father attended, how she had mentioned that some of the girls sounded like boys when they talked. I told her how all the girls there used to be boys earlier in their lives. She wondered if all the boys used to be girls, and we told her some of them probably were, but we didn’t really know, because it doesn’t really matter.

She thought about it for another moment, then went onto some other completely unrelated topic

After all… she is four


Cyclical Meanderings …. part 9….. moving on

Almost every day I sit down to write, half thoughts come out, I start examining something in one direction and my mind twists it around, usually to something self judgmental. So I stop

Flush the piece

Try again the next day….

Never sure what I want to focus on

I read things I wrote the day or two before and they don’t fit as much as they did…. my mind is everywhere…. my heart is a rollercoaster


I’ve been busy, usually enjoying myself. Keeping myself so busy that I ended up sick for a couple days, cancelled plans to go out, took care of myself.

Getting back into a routine. Parts of my story always come out, but it’s easier, even those I met through her agree it was for the best. My story doesn’t overwhelm me any longer, it’s simply reassurance to myself at this point, and once it’s passed over I can enjoy meeting new people, getting to know new friends better, enjoying the music of life.

Other than therapy a couple days ago, and briefly while talking to my Mom, I haven’t cried this week.

Got (most of) my stuff back, and said goodbye. Not farewell, which is what we said when we parted ways, because farewell isn’t forever, but goodbye. But I had to say it through him. I assume the message was received…

He did always treat me well and make me feel accepted. I do want the best for them. I hope they find their truth and look inwards and accept what they see….

I feel like I closed and locked a door, and it chokes me up inside, even though I know it had to be done. It’s not weakness on my part that the door has to be closed, as a part of my brain tries to tell me, judge me, it’s just the way it is, the way I need it to be. Her wanting to still be in each others lives somehow doesn’t represent that she is stronger than me, better than me, more well adjusted than me, as that same part of my brain tells me, it’s just the way she is. And that’s OK, we were obviously very different than one another. She represents a toxicity that I can’t be around any longer even though she is a good person with faults like the rest of us. For myself, for my own self care, I need to continue on this path without her in my life, without that constant reminder of the memories. I don’t need to hold onto something I no longer want just to prove something to myself or her

I’ve started taking care of myself. Eating, exercising, working, curling up on the couch watching movies and enjoying it, taking long baths, doing things with friends, meeting new people

Smiling at myself in the mirror

Letting myself feel interest in others, opening myself to allow others to feel interest in me

Allowing my mind to wander after a woman flirted with me and kissed me on the lips…. without any attachment to any outcome…..

Believing it when people tell me that of course I’ll feel love again, telling it to myself as well

Not seeing her as the last chance to have had a family, taking that as proof that it can happen and may happen again

Finding messages of love and encouragement everywhere I look

Hearing the same thing spoken in so many ways, embrace yourself, love yourself, practice feeling and accepting the dark and sad feelings, meet them with kindness, know that you’ll be OK, and know that it wont always be easy, that it takes practice, that I’ve avoided that for ten years letting the green cloud do it for me, but now I have that chance to no longer hide, to finally build that muscle, to create those grooves in my mind and in my soul. To let go, not only of my memories, but of my programming, to allow myself to grow

Constantly receiving validation, even from the poly community

Knowing I did the right thing

Knowing I’m doing the right thing

Knowing that I’m growing, and healing

and living

and loving and accepting myself

a funny thing happened yesterday….

So after a friends birthday dinner last night we all headed to this dance club / bar (never been to these types of places so I don’t even know how to categorize it) to have a few and do some dancing. It was 90’s night that night, so even though it wasn’t my type of music, at least I should know some of it, and I do enjoy dancing, so what the fuck, let’s go.

The place was actually pretty nice, an old theater, for Montrealers reading this it was La Tulipe which is like a mini-Metropolis. The music wasn’t too loud, the strobe was annoying as hell, but we were there to dance and celebrate our friends 35th so it was all good.

We dump our coats at the coat check, grab and swallow a drink, and hit the dance floor for some time, all going well, enjoying the feeling of letting go and laughing our asses off at the terrible music. At one point birthday girl says it’s time for another drink so we head on back up to the bar. I wasn’t feeling it, so I took a break on a tall stool at an empty table and just sat, enjoying the sight of the douchebags dancing, the kids wondering what this music is and us middle aged folks dancing and yawning at the same time. One crazy guy dancing at a table all on his own and seeming like he is having the time of his life.

So I’m sitting there, with my usual queen pose, back straight, legs crossed at the knees, arms resting lightly on my lap, just looking at the stage, and there’s this dude who is looking at me. I see him out of the corner of my eye and ignore his stare, looking back, I never even wondered if he was trying to “figure me out” or not, he was checking me out, I was just being me, ignoring it and slightly chuckling inside. He gets his nerve and comes up to me, chats with me, asks if my boyfriend is around after I mention to him that I’m here with friends, I tell him no. I let him chat me up, after making him work for it just a little I let him buy me a drink. As he’s at the bar, yet another guy comes by and starts chatting with me, complimenting me (or negging me, not quite sure, I’m new to this) on my pose, how perfect it seems, how I must be planning it. I laugh and accept his compliment, and mention that I’m waiting for a guy to bring me my drink, he thanks me for making that clear and moves on. I laugh out loud, wondering what the hell is going on.

Drink boy comes back, and he is just preening for me, telling me what a great dancer he is, if he can show me, so I grin and uninterestedly let him do so, and hey, he’s not half bad. I felt like he was a peacock showing his feathers, doing his mating dance, cute, and hilarious. He makes me touch his six pack, I do and say “oh goodness”, while cracking up in my head, is this shit really happening?, are guys this sad?. I dance with him, let our bodies rub together, accept his kisses and we make out a bit. The three young girls at the table beside me looking downright pissed. We continue to dance, and he asks if I smoke, and as I do, we pop outside into the freezing cold and share a smoke. We’re standing there, him in front of me, my arm around his waist, and I drop the bomb.

So, you don’t care that I’m trans?

No way you’re trans he replies, he can’t believe it, he stares, he looks downright disappointed.

I laugh.

He sputters, I’m sorry, I just can’t, I’ve tried before, I can’t.

I hand the cigarette back to him, grin, laugh, and say “your loss” and walk with my head held high back into the club.

I head back towards where I see my friends are, waiting for it, waiting for that crushing feeling inside that it finally happened, I had a guy try to pick me up, I told him I was trans, and I was rejected. But it never came, I felt a slight pang in my heart, but it passed quickly, I rejoin my friends and continue in the dance.

I realize now that I’m getting checked out, a lot. I always scan my surroundings, always aware of a possible vector of threat, but I notice guys trying to catch my eye, guys smiling at me. I let them have a slight moment in my gaze, close my eyes, and go back to the dance, laughing inside. A creepy little guy starts dancing too closely to birthday girl and a friend of hers, I see the discomfort in their eyes, I move to him, give him a tap on the chest and simply shake my head at him. He backs off. A guy staring at me grins at this interchange. Again, I laugh inside.

On our way out, walking down the stairs, a guy looks at me beaming as if he’s been looking for me all night, chats with me, an Italian, we share a quick moment, I place my hand on his arm and wish him a good night, he shrugs, wishes me the same and moves on.

Birthday girl says fuck you’re on fire tonight.

I guess I was

I don’t know where it came from, I was quite sober thankfully.

So it finally happened, some undue attention, more in one night than I’ve ever received in my life. Was it validating?, well, yes and no. It validated my looks, and the fact that I do seem to pass, but as I have no idea if the other guys knew I was trans or not, is it really validating?, is it validation if they don’t know my truth?. Either way, I didn’t think about it too much, other than the fact that I finally put myself in a place to face that rejection, and I did, and it was OK.

Not like I had any misgivings about that kid, he wasn’t going to get lucky that night with me regardless of his reply, I was there for a friend, not for myself, and I respect that. But regardless of why the rejection didn’t cut me, the simple fact is that it didn’t.

And that’s pretty fucking cool

And hey, the attention was pretty nice…. but I can see that it would get old fast