Lessons for a therapist

I want to share with you an example of why sharing each other's experiences helps someone else. I met with my Therapist, DR. April T., three weeks ago in her office as I do every two or three weeks and discuss issues I am facing in Transition. You have to know you has a degree in 'Human Behavior' and specializes in GLBT clients.

The story is this; We were discussing my particular issue of having too many people in our house that I disagree with being there. The primary issue discussed that day was 'No consequences to their actions' and she was explaining to me why I was setting myself up for failure when I put the responsibility on my wife. She said to me that my wife was the willing one to allow the situation to continue and that by allowing her control I was going to be the loser.

She decided to cite an example of her household and for whatever reason, the subject she chose ended up as a challenge between us. You see her example was her family not picking up, leaving lights on when they were ready to leave for school and her husband, an Elementary School principal sleeping in until on occasions being late to work. She spent frustrating minutes each day shutting off lights, making sure clothes were pickup up, dresser drawers closed and her husband was up and about so she wouldn't be late herself. She related to me how she felt they were taking advantage of her and that they had no consequences for their actions, so the cycle goes on and on.

As she spoke those last words of no consequences I looked at her and said "then this should become a challenge for you and me". She looked at me with a shocked face as I went on that her behavior was exactly my behavior and that we both needed to set consequences and put responsibility and accountability where it should be rightly. That of course is on the backs of those that are committing the act itself. Those for her were her son, daughter and husband. Mine were the remaining four adult parents, their five children, my two children and wife. The challenge between us was to set the consequences back on their backs and enforce those consequences. Put accountability back where it belonged, not on ourselves.

Her solution was to go out on the way home and buy a penalty bin. In this bin would be put any toy or clothing left out by the children, for her husband something that was his favorite item. Earning them back within a certain time of 24 to 48 hours was to change the way their actions continued, if there was no improvement the item was thrown away.

My solution was to go home, not to call a home meeting, to take control and 'tell' them what was intended of each of them and the consequences. For the two families it was to get their children to pick up after themselves and for the parents to do the household chores and keep the house clean. Additionally when they received their State and federal Income Tax money, they were to move out, contrary to my wife's statement that they had to pay us back first. For my wife the statement 'we cut our losses here' was the decision for her children. For our two children I told her she would become more involved in raising them and supporting my transition, mentally, monetarily and physically or I would have to leave.

I met with my Therapist this last Thursday morning and the session began with her thanking and complimenting for my perception of the similarities in our situation. She told me how successful her situation became, everyone after a couple of days saw that she was serious and changed the way their actions were being conducted. Her stress level dropped off and her time was given back to her to spend on other things.

I arrived home and took each adult families aside and told them my decision and that mom was not involved, it was just the way it was going to be from that moment on. The exit time was real, I love my grandchildren, it was time for them to be reared in their own homes and that the parents take responsibility and accountability for their futures. For my wife it was understand my love for her, but that it was time for us to either come to a place of acceptance and progress for our life together or I was going to have to leave and live on my own.

The point of both mine and my Therapists actions were to remove the stress of allowing others to escape the responsibility and accountability of their actions and the consequences of continuing those actions. However harsh and final they may seem, personal happiness is one of the most important aspects of our lives.

I am happy to say That both my Therapist and I were victorious and now life is less stressful.

Back home to care for Mom

In the summer of 1996 I attended the dedication of a new industry, aviation, by opening a Cessna small engine aircraft assembly plant. I vowed right there, I would be hired in the first few hiring rounds. I was in the first 100 and hit the floor as a team leader responsible over ten others. My first priority was to become the best team on the entire manufacturing floor. In order to do that I used my 'boss' skills I had learned over the years of experience. Soon we were hitting on all 'six' cylinders,,, well it was a 'six' cylinder engine plane. Our team and I were receiving plant awards as well as Corporate. We all wanted the Million Dollar Education program we had trained under to be successful. The Team concept, collaborating on work skills, quality, inventory and overall performance. My whole self was in the progress I could make and believed it to be all our reward pursuits as healthy. I met my soon to be second wife Teresa, we were hired in the same week and trained together. She went to work on the fuselage mating jig while I ran the back shop, which was the cockpit assembly for her station. We became friends and regularly would see each other at our lines 'success' parties at a local bar on Fridays. I swapped a worker who's skills better matched the mating station for Teresa, who's wide varied skills would be better used in my shop. My shop had eight stations and she quickly became skilled in them all and would do anything I asked of her. I admit, even married, I was bitten by her charm, enthusiasm and desire to succeed.

My marriage had been in a spiral for many years we just didn't want to admit it to each other, so I worked long hard hours and played hard as well. Politely put, she and I had been heading in opposite directions since 1991 when I was away from home almost to the obscene. I had to be a social and professional representative of my company. This quickly moved me in the opposite direction she was going, raising the two children within the boundaries of a still religious belief system which I abandoned. My closet cross-dressing got me her view when she told some of the Elders within the church that I was possessed and they whisked me to the side and began laying on of hands, speaking in tongues demanding the demon be gone and all that stuff. I stood there in disbelief as my wife looked on weeping as if I was the devil himself. I was done with religion and her. I suddenly realized this was not wrong, it was just a part of me, I wasn't out 'hooking' on the streets. I plunged into my work, leaving her to do the primary child raising.

In August of 1996 I was awakened by a scream from my mother's house just a few feet away, our house was on her property. I raced to her side and asked what was wrong. She told me my nephew, who worked 35 minutes away from the bungalow between my house and hers, was in an head on collision with a semi on the way home at 2am and was killed. It was my sister's child James Michael, my name sake of my birth name 'Michael'. The F.U.C.K. club came through and my sister had no expenses whatsoever. The loss of this young man of 19 dealt me a terrible blow and I further distanced myself from almost everyone. Then in late September another accident on a country road claimed my sister's husband's daughter and almost my sister's other child. My mind nearly went crazy as I screamed "is this what I came home for?".

My relationship with Teresa was intensified at Thanksgiving 1996, which is her birthday. We were celebrating her birthday as line when she came up to me and said "I choose you as my birthday gift." Wow….. In the cold of the evening we did the wild thing and I was hooked. We became inseparable, sharing secret kisses on the floor and outside of work. March of 1997 my little sister gave me a 750 Yamaha so I could ride with her and her husband. I fell in love with the road and started going to weekend road trips to some biker shows with them. I drove to Teresa's house every morning at 3am to 'wake' her up for work at 5am. Weather never mattered to us we rode in 20 degree and degrees over 100, it was the freedom of the road that called me. By June the tires on my bike were looking bad and I was going to change them in a couple of weeks when my sister called and told me we were going on a poker run. She said she knew my tires were bad and that I could ride her Harley Softtail, I was thrilled. When I arrived at their house the Harley wouldn't start and not to waste the opportunity to party I took my bike, bad tires and all. We were playing poker from one bar destination to the next and we had just finished our 5th stop and were headed for the party to see who got the best hand. The excitement, the beers and the open road made several of us 'brave' as speeds kept going faster. My status was 'pledged by my sister and her husband' among the motorcycle club I rode with was called the "F.U.C.K." club "Fine Upstanding Citizens of Kansas"., and I was becoming rapidly accepted into full club membership wit my biker name "Einstein". A brother, who was hosting the party, pulled out on a long stretch of road ahead of the pack. While my bike was not near as fast I couldn't resist seeing what my bike would do. As I topped the hill at 105 mph my brother had stopped and was signaling the pack to the left onto a short gravel road to his house. Remember my tires? I hit the brakes and the bike went into an uncontrollable slide. I don't know what speed I was going when I put my foot out to hopefully deflect my brother from the main impact, it was a good decision he wasn't injured and his bike just fell over after the impact. I wasn't so lucky, my bikes right handle bar hit his bikes left handle bar and flipped me in the air landing nearly 180 feet down the road on the pavement. Everything went crazy as I flipped and hit the ground then things went black. I don't know how long I was unconscious before I opened my eyes. My sister was standing in my sight as she screamed "not my brother too" I looked at her and said "I'm fine Steve", a code between us during our phone conversations. I lapsed back into unconsciousness until I woke up signing release papers. I had been in the hospital over 24 hours and endured 2 surgeries to repair my left collar bone and sew my left ear back on, so many stitches and skin missing but I was alive. I had cheated death once more. I was back at work in two weeks with just my arm in a sling.

During the early spring of 1998 Teresa told me she was pregnant and I was overjoyed. The happiness and uncertainty of the future was stunned when on a typical morning in the spring, she suddenly began hemorrhaging profusely and I told her oldest son to get her to the hospital. I stopped at work and told my boss of the situation and I left to follow. We had to rush her to a hospital 45 miles away and it was hard to catch up to them, but I did. A note here that my motorcycle was now upgraded to a Yamaha 1100cc bike that could hold 120 - 130 mph easily and it was pegged for long lengths of road. I could only see her that one time as we admitted her to surgery, but her son said he would call me.

I'll stop here as my life would become far more complicated in the days, weeks and months to follow in 1998.

Sitting in my computer room, as I often do, my thoughts were tantalized by the past and present and where we have all journeyed in our lives. Many of us have fought hard to become the person we are today and we acknowledge our life experience is unique.

My thoughts are me as the woman I've become sitting in the lush grass staring into a pool of still water as though it was my very soul.

Take a look in silence in the still waters of your soul for peace.

Can't we find peace to live with each other, in Peace?

20's - 40's life

I have to briefly state that up to this point in my life, I had not looked at the broader picture of society. I learned a great many lessons of life in my 20's that I began to focus on how I wanted my life to stand for in society and my lineage. Personal responsibility became my greatest ally as I grew in local society. My real need was to return my early lessons to those in my church youth group. I became the Youth Minister and was busy at all levels in my church. By 1973 I was traveling on ministries, preaching, mentoring and loving those I met. My inner girl was tucked away safely and I accepted that side of myself, but it dare not be I was now a man with influence on a younger generation. I met my 1st wife in 1974 at work on the manufacturing line and six months later we were married. Both of us put our heart and souls to the ministry of others. As the years passed by I continued to get promotions off the manufacturing floor into accounting. I took accounting I, II and Cost accounting in Junior college, two years later I was the Accounts Payable Manager at a new subsidiary. I spent a year traveling form Independence to Chicago working on the details of the company acquisition until I was bore and restless, accounting just wasn't me. I felt like I was strapped to an office and I wanted to be out among people. In 1976 my son Christopher was born. I was a father and I pushed forward for him to increase my income level so my wife didn't have to work outside of our home, which I did. In 1977 I was approached to sell Life Insurance in Springfield, Mo, it turned out to be Bank Whole Life Insurance with a face value of $250. My high school sweetheart, Lois, mad a couple of trips to visit me and I can tell you I had real feelings for her still. She and I were both married, but she had always been the closest to me and our relationship was intense. As I struggled to win in that market I discovered it was just not right to offer that type of insurance to a primarily 50's and up patron of the bank. I quit after discovering one week my wife had sold my High School Graduation ring and fed my two children, my baby girl was born in 1979, popcorn for lunch and dinner. My cross dressing started up again and I frequently wore panties under my clothes. I spent a few months building houses and general household construction projects. As the stress levels increased over finances, the further I cross dressed. It was time for a new career path, as I was searching for work I returned to Independence and was approached by my previous manufacturing company. They wanted me to come back to work for them in the Data Processing Department. This was to set the course for the remainder of my life until I was forty one.

In the spring of 1979 being a new programmer on staff I got the easiest assignments to learn on before I could take on more complex tasks. I made a good friend there and he was a soccer playing fool, one spring afternoon we were kicking the soccer ball around in the park. At least 20+ kids came around and we kicked the ball around with them for an hour. We told them we would be back the next weekend and when we arrived about 25 kids were waiting, so we split them up into two team and started teaching soccer skills. We started a soccer recreational club by May and enrolled over 200 kids to play. I was voted President and I quickly got adults to take places in the organization. My appointment would last two seasons and we would top 250 kids until I took a new job in Oklahoma City, OK. My cross dressing was minimal as I started this job. The job would turn out to be a short job, I was paired up with one other programmer to make a mirror system on a Honeywell computer by translating and correcting any program errors as we converted them from one language to another, This programmer's name was Francis Randolph. It was the first time I actually loved another guy, he was cute, accepting, fun. Our job would only last six months for us when we were offered jobs with a firm who managed university and city/county government software. Our job was helping do program modifications to the Oklahoma City's software, but this ended up being a short contract. Randy took an assignment in Detroit, MI while I took a position in Charleston, SC after I interviewed in Detroit. I had affiliated myself with the Edmond, OK soccer club, over 1,000 youth participating. As their referee coordinator. During that two years I instituted student referees that I monitored and trained them allowing us to hold 10 matches at one time, this eliminated the need for Sunday games and let us establish and adult league for Sunday's. My life was totally soccer and the following year I was elected President of the Club. I served for just over one season when I was transferred to Charleston, SC.

When I arrived in Charleston I was greeted with a magnificent night out with the senior staff and enjoyed the wonderful night life of downtown. The next day I thought I was going to be interviewed, instead I saw a girl in the conference room with the programming manager pouring over some reports. When I was watching them, the programming manager asked me if I knew anything about Data Base Administration, which just so happened was one of the tasks I took on during my first job in Oklahoma City. I quickly showed them the changes to make and helped them generate all the data bases needed. Wham I was hired, not as a Programmer Analyst but Data Base Administrator with a large salary and position within the organization. I had been wearing lingerie under my clothes for some time since meeting Randy, just something about meeting him that strengthened my transgender feelings. In Charleston the men dressed in three piece suits as I did because of the County and local top city influential people invited our staff to many evenings at the local party sites. I dressed in southern dress as though I belonged with the locals with lingerie underneath and a more feminine colored shirts.

In 1986, I was told I was to interview a new Tech Support Specialist for a job I had opened. When I got his resume' to my shock and happiness it was Francis Randolph, I didn't have to interview him instead I went into my supervisor's office and told him to hire him I was familiar with his work. A dream, a fantasy of mine was coming to work for me, wow. When he arrived he was just the same as the last time I saw him, gorgeous long blonde hair, blue eyes and plump kissable lips. We renewed our friendship spending many evenings taking in the night life, But it was his invites to his house to relax that I enjoyed most. Alone with him I know my eyes betrayed me when I looked at him. I wanted him to kiss me and more with every brush or touch. It wasn't what I should have been thinking, being married. We stayed friends until 1991 when he took a job in silicon valley with a private firm doing development work. I wasn't to here from him until one night he called me and told me he was going to disappear for awhile. I asked him why and all he could tell me that he had hacked into something he shouldn't have. I was to keep in touch with his former wife. Barely 3 weeks later she called me and told me he had been run off the road on his motorcycle over a cliff on one of California's coastal highways and was killed. A true love and friend was gone out of my life, I was devastated.

The remainder of 1991 though 1993 I rose to the Technical directors Position, a tense time for me. The entire Tech staff was fired by management while I was in New York at IBM technical school learning system security. After a brief stay to hire a couple of tech staff, I was off to school for the next 2 1/2 months in San Francisco, Chicago and back to New York City. As I served in those two years as Tech. Mgr., I was on the inside of the organizations operations with the client. The things I began to see behind the scenes were corrupt and in some cases downright unethical I began to be disillusioned with cooperate life.

In 1993 I got an urgent call from Lois asking me to meet her for a weekend in Savannah GA. She said she needed to talk to me and I did not hesitate leaving that weekend to meet her. She was living in Clearwater FL. And we, the entire family, had visited her a couple of times at her house. When I arrived she looked very sick and I immediately grabbed her in my arms and held her as she sobbed. We sat on the bed and talked about past things until we came around to the real reason she wanted to see me. She told me that she was dying of liver cancer and that she only had a couple of months to live. We cried for some time until we got some composure back, when she asked me what I was wearing underneath my clothes. Since she already knew about my feminine side I told her panties, nothing else. She told me to sit on the bed while she went to the closet and brought out some of her clothes since were about the same size. She sat me down after helping me dress and brushed my semi long hair and applied some makeup. We went out to dinner and had a good time for a few hours until she felt sick from the radiation treatments she had been receiving. We lay there in each others arms all night, drifting in and out of sleep as we exchanged kisses. Late the next afternoon we parted company and went back to our families. Two months later ger older sister Ruth called me to tell me she had passed. I couldn't even go to her funeral. My two truest friends were taken from my life and I felt more alone than I had my entire life.

The year 1994, I came face to face with corruption when I was offered an 18 month fast path training to be a manager of my own site. I asked to think about it and a week later I resigned in the face of this new opportunity. I met a man who had a concept that I felt I could help him develop into a good company. The concept was simple, tap into the greed of some corporations with a program to stack customers for $ incomes based on family shopping shared in a computer generated random hierarchy. I approached four SC State Senators who saw the potential of relieving families witn additional cash to spend in grocery stores and the potential to bring other retailers into the mix at a later date. They funded the company and we made One of the them President and my partner and I took Vice President positions. For a month I designed the computerized portion as I was Vice President of Operations while my partner was Vice President of Marketing. When the system design was through I used a connection I had in New York to contract the actual programming. I sent my partner out to California to one the largest grocery chains for a presentation, I should have known better than to send him alone since I had had to resue the first presentation to a large chain in SC and GA. When he came back he had failed to secure a second meeting after they wanted to consult with their Legal department, a classic mistake, they did not reset an appointment after numerous phone calls. Then the worst thing that I could find collapsed the company, he had dipped into the investment money to pay his ex-wife's rent. The remaining money was not enough to make the final payment to my hired programmer. With the initial presentation of the software ready I went back to the senators wit a small request for another small investment, they refused. My partner and I parted ways bitterly, I walked away with all the software and documentation safely under my control as it does today. In

Completely burnt out I moved back to Independence, KS determined to find my way back into corporate America.

The next years from 1996 through 2003 were to be years that would bring me to a breaking point. I was 42 years old when I arrived in the fall of that year.

Today I was shocked..

I find myself backed up against a brick wall. My income stream is from SSI, granted it is above average due to my profession. When I went to see my case manager today, she's in charge of my weekly progress and needs during transition. She informed me that SRS had discontinued my Medicare coverage, not my Medicaid for prescriptions, but any other services leaving me with a $4,000 bill. Which I cannot pay. The reason given by SRS was my income was too high?

Please note my blog titled Why "Sex change" surgery is medically necessary.

Any suggestions would be gratefully received.

A note to my grandchildren.

I have 19 grandchildren ranging in age 1 to 13. Now that my children are adults, most of them are accepting of my new self, but I now face the challenge of explaining to my grandchildren why poppy is wearing girls clothes all of the time. Recently my 5 y/o girl grandchild sat with me and said plainly "Boys aren't girls.". I simply told her that some of us become girls. She looked at me and said "Are you going to be a girl poppy?" I said "yes" and she just hugged me and said "that's ok, I love you poppy.". If only it will be that easy with the rest of them. I have custody of 2 grandchildren, both girls age 2 and 4. The 2 y/o does not know her mother, so she has started calling me "mommy" and only me. I love her dearly and intend to stay her mommy through all of my transition, she's mine and I'm so happy to be a mommy.

A note to my grown children.

I hope that in this letter I can explain some difficult issues in life I have had since I was very young.

I have been in therapy and under a Psychiatrist's care now as you know. In the beginning, in 2001, I had to face many of my life's experiences and the affects they have had on my personal belief system. This intense therapy, sometimes hospitalized, has brought me to self examination towards some mental, emotional and physical balance in my life has been The Hardest thing I have done, ever.

My personal being, what was inside of me driving me to my goals in life collapsed. My entire belief system evaporated, leaving me shaken to my very core.

I want to start at the beginning and work forward in this letter to bear my soul, if you will, as I have had to do for the last for the last eight years in therapy. The first hurdle, which took seven and a half of those years. Trust in others with my mind I have always protected with tenacity. The things I never wanted anyone to know needed to be shared or I was simply going to remain the bitter person I was becoming. That, in itself, has led me through an entire lifetime of history, happiness, regret, achievement and failure.

I have never been one to allow people inside of the inner workings of my mind and how each system of beliefs affected me since childhood. In fact, I have never shared that life with anyone ever, until now. In order to find the truth inside, I had to find someone who I could trust to open up to and share all of those things that have molded me and destroyed me.

Mental illness does not mean "crazy", it only means the person has some disorder which impairs "normal" interaction with those around the. In 1997 I had a motorcycle accident, not the first time I had faced death and certainly not the last. There have been several times I my past and several since that accident. Each time at those moments I saw life more an more what it meant to me. I just do not see the world the same as those around me.

Core beliefs are those things which are the foundation of each of our lives. The things that lead us through life, our decision making processes, belief in a higher power, belief in self and the things that we are influenced by or influenced others with inside of us. This is where I had to be regressed in therapy and psychoanalysis.

My lirfe from early childhood through my high school years, were years of pain, disappointment and ultimately caused me to become mentally ill, In those moments of time I developed myself, with little help from others, into a driven person who believes in a higher calling than most people I knew. Before I begin I must make one statement to clear the air and re-focus on the real issues that have ultimately led us to this time and affected my true children and your mother. Teresa did not steal me away or un anyway influenced me in my own decision making.

The truth is, everything in my life has been my my choices and mine alone. In that, I accept each and every decision and the ultimate consequences.

You both are my greatest joys in life and have never been a disappointment to me, you never will be. My love and admiration of each of you will never end as it never has.

This statement may not ring true on the surface and may even give you cause for some consternation, but I feel it important for this subject. I have never been able to find what I wanted for my life, complete happiness. Inner turmoil has both sustained me and ultimately brought me to my knees, destroying everything I had become.You could call it a complete failure to distinguish reality from fantasy as most psychiatrists would diagnose.

The core of my actions has been, righting my past while creating a good future for you children. I wish everyday that 'righting the past' had not been part of that thinking process. But, in keeping that core thought, I used it as a sounding board for my future actions. What I mean is, I looked at "history" for personal and non-personal proactive approaches to my future. That historical review of my life led me to two conclusions in my personal life, one that influenced me the entire time I was with you and now the second which has brought me to look at my future.

Before I move on I want you both to know one thing. I am, in fact, mentally ill and most likely have suffered this illness my entire life. I am an intelligent person as I raised both of you to be to take on the challenges in life. You have both turned out tp be the same, intelligent and competent to make decisions based on the reality you face. I hope each of you can gie me the same credit, even if some of my decisions have negatively affected our relationship. I do not want to be my father, he simply was never there for me and that will never change. I want you to believe and know that my decisions were for each of you, discarding myself in the process. I sacrificed my life, as we all do, for those decisions.

All of that said, I will give you the definitions of mental illnesses I suffer from fromy diagnosis. Further treatment will be on-going. I will not be returning to society as a "productive member" of society's working class, instead I will be content communicating my beliefs through the internet.

They now believe my mental illness is the result of repeated trauma throughout my lifetime. I'm sure you are both familiar with the term Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was what I told them the first time jennifer took mre to Four County Mental Health. Now they finally came around and found what I already knew.

I currently have a book started which, I hope, will show people o9f all persuasions what individual reality means and the joining of our perspective realities to an end of broader cooperation. We each see ourselves within the boundaries of our life experiences.

I have been diagnosed using the definitions that follow.

Bipolar disorder
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Bipolar disorder or manic–depressive disorder (also referred to a bipolarism or manic depression) is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated mood. These moods are clinically referred to as mania or, if milder, hypomania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes or symptoms, or mixed episodes in which features of both mania and depression are present at the same time.[1] These episodes are usually separated by periods of "normal" mood, but in some individuals, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, known as rapid cycling. Extreme manic episodes can sometimes lead to psychotic symptoms such as delusions and hallucinations. The disorder has been subdivided into bipolar I, bipolar II, cyclothymia, and other types, based on the nature and severity of mood episodes experienced; the range is often described as the bipolar spectrum.
Data from the United States on lifetime prevalence varies, but indicates a rate of around 1% for Bipolar I, 0.5–1% for Bipolar II or cyclothymia, and 2–5% for subthreshold cases meeting some, but not all, criteria. The onset of full symptoms generally occurs in late adolescence or young adulthood. Diagnosis is based on the person's self-reported experiences, as well as observed behavior. Episodes of abnormality are associated with distress and disruption, and an elevated risk of suicide, especially during depressive episodes. In some cases it can be a devastating long-lasting disorder; in others it has also been associated with creativity, goal striving and positive achievements.[2]
Genetic factors contribute substantially to the likelihood of developing bipolar disorder, and environmental factors are also implicated. Bipolar disorder is often treated with mood stabilizer medications, and sometimes other psychiatric drugs. Psychotherapy also has a role, often when there has been some recovery of stability. In serious cases in which there is a risk of harm to oneself or others involuntary commitment may be used; these cases generally involve severe manic episodes with dangerous behavior or depressive episodes with suicidal ideation. There are widespread problems with social stigma, stereotypes and prejudice against individuals with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder.[3] People with bipolar disorder exhibiting psychotic symptoms can sometimes be misdiagnosed as having schizophrenia, another serious mental illness.[4]
The current term "bipolar disorder" is of fairly recent origin and refers to the cycling between high and low episodes (poles). A relationship between mania and melancholia had long been observed, although the basis of the current conceptualisation can be traced back to French psychiatrists in the 1850s. The term "manic-depressive illness" or psychosis was coined by German psychiatrist Emil Kraepelin in the late nineteenth century, originally referring to all kinds of mood disorder. German psychiatrist Karl Leonhard split the classification again in 1957, employing the terms unipolar disorder (major depressive disorder) and bipolar disorder.

Schizoaffective disorder
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Schizoaffective disorder is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a mental disorder characterized by recurring episodes of elevated or depressed mood, or simultaneously elevated and depressed mood that alternate or occur together with distortions in perception.[1][2] The perceptual distortion component of the disorder, called psychosis, may affect all five senses, including sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch, but most commonly manifest as auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions, or disorganized speech and thinking with significant social and occupational dysfunction. The elevated, depressed or simultaneously elevated and depressed mood episode components of the disorder, called mood disorder, are broadly recognized as depressive and bipolar types of the illness; the division is based on whether the individual has ever had a manic, hypomanic or mixed episode. Onset of symptoms usually begins in early adulthood and is rarely diagnosed in childhood (prior to age 13). The lifetime prevalence of the disorder is uncertain (due to studies using varying diagnostic criteria), although it is generally agreed to be less than 1 percent, and possibly in the range of 0.5 to 0.8 percent.[3] Diagnosis is based on the patient's self-reported experiences and observed behavior. No laboratory test for schizoaffective disorder currently exists. As a group, people with schizoaffective disorder have a more favorable prognosis than people with schizophrenia, but a worse prognosis than those with mood disorders.[4]
Studies suggest that genetics, early environment, neurobiology, psychological and social processes are important contributory factors; some recreational and prescription drugs appear to cause or worsen symptoms. Current psychiatric research is focused on the role of neurobiology, but no single organic cause has been found.
The mainstay of treatment is antipsychotic medication combined with mood stabilizer medication or antidepressant medication, or both. Antipsychotic drugs primarily work by suppressing dopamine activity; while antidepressant drugs primarily work by increasing the active levels of at least one monoamine neurotransmitter. The exact mechanism of how mood stabilizers work is uncertain. Psychotherapy, and vocational and social rehabilitation (see psychiatric rehabilitation) are also important for recovery. In more serious cases—where there is risk to self and others—involuntary hospitalization may be necessary, although hospital stays are less frequent and for shorter periods than they were in previous times.[5]
The disorder is thought to mainly affect cognition and emotion, but it also usually contributes to ongoing problems with behavior and motivation. People with schizoaffective disorder are likely to have additional (comorbid) conditions, including anxiety disorders and substance abuse. Social problems, such as long-term unemployment, poverty and homelessness, are common. Furthermore, the average life expectancy of people with the disorder is shorter than those without the disorder, due to increased physical health problems and a higher suicide rate.
The diagnosis was introduced in 1933[6] and will be removed from or amended in the next iteration of the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-V), to be published in 2012.[7][8]


Gender identity disorder
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Gender identity disorder (GID) is the formal diagnosis used by psychologists and physicians to describe persons who experience significant gender dysphoria (discontent with the biological sex they were born with). It is a psychiatric classification and describes the attributes related to transsexuality, transgender identity, and transvestism.
Gender identity disorder in children is usually reported as "having always been there" since childhood, and is considered clinically distinct from GID which appears in adolescence or adulthood, which has been reported by some as intensifying over time.[1] Since many cultures strongly disapprove of cross-gender behavior, it often results in significant problems for affected persons and those in close relationships with them. In many cases, discomfort is also reported as stemming from the feeling that one's body is "wrong" or meant to be different.
Some transgender people and researchers have criticized the classification of GID as a mental disorder for several reasons, including evidence from recent studies about the brains of transsexual people.[2] The treatment for this disorder consists primarily of physical modifications to bring the body into harmony with one's perception of mental (psychological, emotional) gender identity, rather than vice versa.[3]


Transgender vs. transsexual

The word transsexual, unlike the word transgender, has a precise medical definition.[17] It was defined by Harry Benjamin in his seminal book "The Transsexual Phenomenon".[17] In particular he defined transsexuals on a scale called the "Benjamin Scale", which defines a few different levels of intensity of transsexualism; these are listed as "Transsexual (nonsurgical)", "True Transsexual (moderate intensity)", and "True Transsexual (high intensity)".[17] Many transsexuals believe that to be a true transsexual one needs to have a desire for surgery. [18] However, it is notable that Benjamin's moderate intensity "true transsexual" needs estrogen, or testostorone medication as a "substitute for or preliminary to operation."[17] There also exist people who have had sexual reassignment surgery (SRS) but do not meet the definition of a transsexual, such as Gregory Hemingway.[19][20], while other people do not desire SRS yet clearly meet Dr. Benjamin's definition of a "true transsexual".[21] Beyond Dr. Benjamin's work, which focused on Male to Female transsexuals, there are cases of Female to Male transsexuals for whom surgery is often considered to be not practical.
Outside of the above medical definition there is a wide range of gender expressions which are contrary to the norm. Cross dressers, drag queens, transvestites, transvestic fetishist etc. It is notable that many transsexuals go through one of those self identifications before realizing that they are in fact transsexual.
Some transsexuals also take issue with the term because Charles "Virginia" Prince, the founder of the cross dressing organization Tri-Ess and coiner of the term "transgender",[22] did so because she wished to distinguish herself from transsexual people. In "Men Who Choose to Be Women," Prince wrote "I, at least, know the difference between sex and gender and have simply elected to change the latter and not the former".[23] There is a substantial academic literature on the difference between sex and gender, but in pragmatic English, this academic distinction is ignored and "gender" is used mostly to describe the categorical male/female difference while "sex" is used mostly to describe the physical act.[24]
There is political tension between the identities that fall under the "transgender umbrella." For example, transsexual men and women who can pay for medical treatments (or who have institutional coverage for their treatment) are likely to be concerned with medical privacy and establishing a durable legal status as men and women later in life. Extending insurance coverage for medical care is a coherent issue in the intersection of transsexuality and economic class. Most of these issues can appeal even to conservatives, if framed in terms of an unusual sort of "maintenance" of traditional notions of gender for rare people who feel the need for medical treatments. Some trans people might express this by saying "I don't challenge the gender binary, I just started out on the wrong side of it."[25]

Transgender identities

While people self-identify as transgender, transgender identity includes many overlapping categories. These include cross-dresser (CD); transvestite (TV); androgynes; genderqueer; people who live cross-gender; drag kings; and drag queens; and, frequently, transsexual (TS).[26] Usually not included are transvestic fetishists (because it is considered to be a paraphilia rather than gender identification). In an interview, artist RuPaul talked about society's ambivalence to the differences in the people who embody these terms. "A friend of mine recently did the Oprah show about transgender youth," said RuPaul. "It was obvious that we, as a culture, have a hard time trying to understand the difference between a drag queen, transsexual, and a transgender, yet we find it very easy to know the difference between the American baseball league and the National baseball league, when they are both so similar."[27] These terms are explained below.
The extent to which intersex people (those with ambiguous genitalia or other physical sexual characteristics) are transgender is debated, since not all intersex people disagree with their gender assigned at birth. The current definitions of transgender include all transsexual people, although this has been criticized. (See below.)
The term trans man refers to female-to-male (FtM or F2M) transgender people, and trans woman refers to male-to-female (MtF or M2F) transgender people, although some transgender people identify only slightly with the gender not assigned at birth. In the past, it was assumed that there were far more trans women than trans men, but a Swedish study estimated a ratio of 1.4:1 in favour of trans women for those requesting sex reassignment surgery and a ratio of 1:1 for those who proceeded.[28] There is a school of thought that says terms such as "FtM" and "MtF" are subjugating language that reinforces the binary gender stereotype.[29]
The term cisgender has been coined as an antonym referring to non-transgender people; i.e. those who identify with their gender assigned at birth.[30]

Transsexual

Transsexual people identify as, or desire to live and be accepted as, a member of the sex opposite to that assigned at birth.[31][32]
Many trans people desire to undergo gender transition. People who have transitioned, who do not necessarily identify as transgender or transsexual any longer, may identify as simply a man or a woman. Those that continue identifying as transsexual men or women may not want to ignore their pre-transition life, and may continue strong ties with other trans people and raising social consciousness.[33]
Many transsexual people have a wish to alter their bodies. These physical changes are collectively known as gender reassignment therapy and often (but not always) include hormone replacement therapy and sex reassignment surgery. References to "pre-operative", "post-operative" and "non-operative" transsexual people indicate whether they have had, or are planning to have sex reassignment surgery, although some trans people reject these terms as objectifying trans people based on their surgical status and not their mental gender identity.

I want you to know what you are about to read is, for me, the final piece of a 50 y/o puzzle. Once I found the right persons that I could trust to open up to, everything just flooded out. When you are fighting for literally a point of reference to normalcy and you do a deep search inside to find the answers, the right therapist and psychologist hold the key. By chance this little corner of SE Kansas had a transgender trained therapist and psychologist to open the door wider so they could help me.

I still have issue to reveal to them both and put the demons, as they say, to rest. This is my last hope for true happiness. You both have been my greatest joy and being transgender has been mine to bear all these years. I simply cannot move forward in my life without living it's remainder as who I truly was meant to be. I hope you understand. There will be many questions I know, I hope I have answered some of them.

Being transgender since I was very young has made life difficult, at the very least.

My past has been spent hiding my "inner girl" from the 'The World'. Your mother and I had you two and we raised you as best we could while trying to balnce career with personal belief. I made you mother happy sexually even while wanting to be in her place at those moments. I made her feel every bit as sexy, feminine and loved as I saw my "inner girl" receiving.

I may have lost track of a few things, but my intellect remains. I always said my intellect was both my greatest asset in life while being my ultimate downfall. You both are very intelligent individuals and I know I have put a huge stone in the path of our relationships. I still hope and believe after reading this that you will understand why I never wanted anyone to take a walk through my mind. I loove you both and hope that this will not be too much to bear.

The future is the real issue of life that remains. I decided I can no longer live two lives and the opposite sex. The footprints I left in my past will always remain. My concern for the future is for those I have touched and the relationships we continue, nothing else matters.

I have seen the two of you succeed in your chosen pursuits, Christopher for your career in Military Intelligence and Jennifer for your PHD in Sociology. And yes, I claim responsibility for your fierce attitudes and work ethics. I was like that, it's a rule for a successful and happy life for each of you. It was always my "inner girl" who was running the show, right down to selecting what your mother wore. The fashion taste of her clothing was what and how myself, if only I could have been ME.

In pursuit of "my true self" has not made me less aware that I still have two distinct lives with my children and your children.

The question I can hear now; Am I without a "Dad, Grandfather"?
How do you answer that question?

Of course I am still here, my mind has not changed, only how I outwardly appear.

Is that the right answer?
I hope so.

Why "Sex change" surgery is medically necessary.

Why "Sex chage" surgery is medically necessary.

The following information may be something that some of us feel to become the full person we always believed we should have been. The text can be redistributed as people feel fit, provided the text is not altered. Permission given by Mercedes Allen @ http://albertatrans.org.

Even at the age of 56 I feel this article hits straight to the heart of my feelings.

Popular opinion has it that Gender Reassignment Surgery (GRS, often popularly nicknamed "sex change surgery") is a cosmetic issue and motivated by a simple "want" to be female or male, by someone who was not born as such. However, extensive medical research into transsexuality dating as far back as the 1920s and continuing through modern studies have demonstrated otherwise, and consequently, the medical standards of care have included GRS as a necessary procedure for decades. In order to understand this, people will honestly need to put aside preconceptions for a moment -- and also realize at the same time that many transsexuals would rather see a health system in which preventative and quality-of-life treatments were uniformly covered, rather than one in which someone's eye surgery or tendon issues are not.

As recently as 50 years ago, being left-handed brought with it a stigma of being strange and socially unacceptable. In the Middle Ages, left-handed people were prosecuted as witches, under the accusation that being "backwards" meant that they were demon-possessed. In many languages, the word "sinister" and variants derive from the Latin word for "left."

This caused many left-handed people to attempt to hide their dexterity, switching to their right hand, restricting their comfort, agility and co-ordination. Many lived in constant fear of being found out.

"There was a lot of emotional stress and pain attached with it. I never understood why it was so “wrong” to be left handed. It caused me a lot of pain through the years that I was forced to be right handed all the while thinking “Why am I not using my left?” I tried to switch back other times but felt it was wrong and feared negative repercussions. So I finally had it and I fought through the pain and the ingrained negative stigmas about left handedness. Though I have only been back at it for a week it feels so natural, I cried and cried because I felt so so happy, like everything fell into place and that I was me again. All these years it had made me miserable I am so glad that I finally listened to myself." -- Mari Ongstad, in response to a speech given by left-handers' activist Murray Kaufman, 2006.

This is much the same experience of someone who is transsexual, except that their entire identity is at stake. They attempt to hide who they are, the hiding driven by a spiralling sense of shame and self-loathing, until it becomes an experience many liken to "suffocating," or vents itself in an explosion of frustration. Transsexuals are unable to explain why they feel that their gender should be something different than their birth sex, and sometimes spend years attempting to mask themselves, to "pass" as the gender that society expects them to be. This restricts their ability to function socially, emotionally, psychically, spiritually, economically (it’s hard to be productive while constantly feeling out of one’s element and/or “backwards”), maybe sexually, and leaves them often suicidal as a result. If this continues into later adulthood, often a crisis point is reached in which the person suffers a complete emotional collapse.

“Gender Dysphoria” is the name for this condition, and treatment follows the standards of care established by the World Professional Association of Transgender Health (WPATH, formerly HBIGDA), which includes GRS. No less than the American Medical Association has stepped forward advocating the necessity of surgery and its coverage. In fact, like the AMA, the American Psychiatric Association, the American Psychological Association and the Canadian counterparts of all three all support GRS as a medically necessary part of treatment. It was partly for this reason that the Ontario Human Rights Commission ruled last year that that Province should restore coverage of the procedure.

Treatment of Gender Dysphoria encorporates surgical and endocrine intervention, because analytical and aversion therapies have historically proven damaging. As much as mainstream society would like to believe that electroshock therapy, anti-psychotic drugs or conversion ("ex-gay") therapy would help transsexuals “just get over it,” modern medicine has realized that this approach simply does not work, and usually results in suicide or extreme anti-social behaviour. Aligning body to mind, however, has enabled transsexuals to become valued and successful people in society. There are, in fact, a few transsexuals who feel that they can live without having GRS, but they are the exception and not the rule.

Gender Dysphoria (sometimes called "Gender Identity Disorder," or GID) is currently listed as a mental health issue, but ongoing study of both genetic ”brain sex” and Endocrine Disrupting Chemicals (EDCs) show the possibility of some biological causal factor. In a study released in October 2003, UCLA researchers identified 54 genes in male and female mouse brains that led to measurable differences by gender, and went on to indicate the possibility of a brain being gendered differently to one's physical sex. According to Dr. Eric Vilain, "It's quite possible that sexual identity and physical attraction is 'hard-wired' by the brain. If we accept this concept, we must dismiss the myth that homosexuality is a 'choice' and examine our civil legal system accordingly." Studies of EDCs show another, possibly concurrent potential that exposure to chemicals that simulate hormone characteristics -- particularly between the third and eighth week of pregnancy -- can affect the signals sent out to determine psychological gender and biological sex, which appear to develop at different times during gestation. One EDC of particular research interest, the synthetic hormone diethylstilbestrol (DES), was administered to women for a time as a "vitamin" supplement to help prevent miscarriage, a practice which ceased in the early 1970s when it was linked to various cancers (although it remained in use with animal populations into the early 1990s). In all fairness, nothing is conclusively proven at this point, and there is not a lot of research money being put into further study, as most pharmaceutical companies do not yet see a payoff from doing so. But the anecdotal and observational data from EDC and brain studies of human and animal populations would tend to support an innate origin of transsexuality, and coincides with transsexuals' convictions that they "just knew" that they were female (in the case of male-to-female transsexuals) or male (in the case of female-to-males).

There is more. Current legislation asserts that most forms of identification and legal documentation can only be changed to reflect one's new gender after surgery has been verified. Without GRS, many pre-operative transsexuals experience severe limitations on employment, travel beyond Canada's border, and treatment in medical, legal and social settings in which verifying ID is necessary. Prior to GRS surgery, transsexuals also face limitations on where they can go (i.e. the spa or gym, or anywhere that involves changing clothes) and difficulties in establishing relationships -- as well as being in that "iffy" area where human rights are assumed to be protected, but have not yet been specifically established as such in policies and legislation. In hospitals, prisons and such, they are housed by physical sex rather than their gender identity, creating potentially risky situations, unless the authorities directly involved choose to keep them in isolation. And at the end of the day, without GRS surgery, one's gender is always subject to being challenged or stubbornly unacknowledged by those who don't realize that a transsexual's gender identity was not a matter of choice. There is also an extremely high risk of violence faced upon the accidental discovery that one's genitalia does not match their presentation.

Transsexuality is not widely known or understood in mainstream society, and should not be confused with other aspects of the larger transgender (an umbrella term) culture. Although much sensationalism can be made of something like medical coverage of Gender Reassignment Surgery, the realities paint a very different story.

Needing comments girls.... Loving open arms here!!!

The next segment of my life I will be posting, I hope will spark some conversation. The first segment of my life through the teen years has been posted. I am hoping that each of you will read and post, by name or anonymously, about anything that occurred in that time frame you would like to make. Comments are NOT posted on Facebook!!

All I want to do is help us all find within ourselves that moment we realized we were transgender. Maybe you need support in your feelings or anything. As I stated before this site is for transgender helping and supporting transgender. Join me girls in sharing and supporting each other in our transition or decisions to pursue transition or staying where you are today. Everyone has an experience to offer the rest of us girls.

I love you all with open arms!

Sixteen and barely kissed.

Things happened to me in this segment which were to be so humiliating, frightening to a transgendered boy. To this day the events would forever brand in my mind feelings I would attempt to hide and suffer within for the very thoughts that came to me.

I woke up in a daze, I was in bed, I was being "fucked" forcibly… Raped… I pulled away and screamed at him to stop. I was afraid for my life. What next I could never win a fight with him he was half my size bigger, was he going to kill me and get rid of my body. I did not know what to do, all I knew was that I had to leave, now. I gathered up my clothes and kept yelling at him as I moved toward the front door. I just opened the door and walked away in the pink baby doll night gown and snuck into a dim-lit spot, I can't remember. I needed to change and walk towards home as fast as possible. It was a hot June evening in Dallas and I found my way to a large street I knew "Forest Lane", where I just walked and walked hiding my face from everyone as they passed, as if they might know about what just happened to a sixteen year old 'boy'.

I wanted to scream, but at who, 'boys don't tell'. I found my way home early the next morning and I showered and fell asleep cuddled in a ball. Who would care in this big city. Sure I tried to confront him the next day, what did it get me, fired that's what it got me. Yes, I cried, I got mad and complained that they fired me for something they hadn't. I put up the defense front so that I could just be angry. I took it out on the only one responsible, my mom, she brought us here. I found my way to late night parties with my friends and their friends, coming home drunk, high, both or worse. Drugs and more drugs was my quest, more marijuana and acid, which I had heard about at the coffee houses just a couple of years ago. By school I was in complete denial and looked for anything to free myself from my reality. My studies World History and Work Experience, basically 90 minutes of history and 90 minutes of experience equals Graduation and goodbye to this town for me.

I had nightmares and bad trips during and on the weekends when I partied on with my friends. I worked my job and partied by night, my car had become my home. I poured money into the interior like most teenagers today. It was my haven and she was fast, too fast but I didn't want to slow down. My character changed in some ways, work hard and live harder when I came into contact with a biker club called the "Rebels" out of Bozeman, MT. My little sister's boyfriend was one of the founding 'Members' of the Club. At this moment in life I wanted to be indentified with someone and definitely not as a 'girl' in any way. After partying with them a few times they wanted to be a member, wow all I had to do to get one of those cool denim jackets with a Club patch. That was what I wanted, build or buy my own chopper and cruise the roads, free from all the memories. My solution to the past was to run away from all aspects, family, relatives other friends and just go.

School was easy, I aced both classes, go figure. I graduated somewhere in the alphabetic middle of eight hundred classmates at SMU in Dallas. Thank goodness we got the 10am slot as opposed to the 12noon, 2pm or 4pm slots. Can you imagine four graduations of approximately the same size in one place on the same day. I just wanted out of that city any way I could. I turned eighteen and kept working at the Chevrolet dealership when my sister's boyfriend asked if I wanted to work with him fulltime at his dad's filling station and shop. He was a brother, so I accepted and by fall I had moved into a large house with three other club members, a total of six in a three bedroom house we would all 'share the bills'. One third of us actually 'shared the bills', the rest donated weed or whatever else became available on our combined wages. My brother's introduced me to 'speed' and I loved it shot into my vein, the quick rush and almost euphoric high kept me fascinated. One night my sister's boyfriend's brother's old lady, well she might have been eighteen, slipped me a note which was a big come on. I wasn't interested and went to my room and crashed, the next thing I know my brother her old man is holding a cocked 45 magnum in my face and telling me to get out. When I got up I looked around and she was in bed with me, was he serious? Me and her? In his hand was the note she wrote to me. I got up, packed and looked at my partially built Harley Sportster and walked out away from there into a decision that was made on the same need to identify with something bigger than myself and definitely female.

I had moved to Wichita, KS to my cousin's but was living with my club brother who left with me. I kept doing speed for the next few weeks exclusively and worked for a custom marble top manufacturer, doing setups and spraying gel-coat on the molds. Sometimes I hadn't slept in days or eaten either, but it was al about the evening. My life was going nowhere fast and Vietnam was up in the air, the draft was notifying me that I needed to register which I did. I stayed away from drugs for a few days before a United States Marine recruiter talked me into taking the aptitude test and I scored high in the Avionics field and I could join under the 'buddy program' with a friend and go through basic and advanced infantry training together. I just looked at my brother 'Wirehead' and said "I will if you will." he nodded to his brother "Deputy Dog" and we signed the papers. The next day we were on the bus for Kansas City, Mo for induction into the Marines. Arriving by plane and then bussed to Camp Pendleton in San Diego, CA where the first seventy two hours we were kept up, yelled at and mentally abused about everything from our sexual preference to our mother's obvious mistake in having me. Boot camp was both grueling physically and mentally and had me and my brother snapped together the Marine way in short order and became forward road guards for the platoon, meaning no one encroached our space at intersections by another platoon. Oh they loved to play, who can get there first and who could stop the closest to another platoon. Ahhh, Military life, ya gotta admire it's organization and disciplined life. I really did, only one hitch, I hated violence, go figure.

Those first two months of training, a total of four and you were Marine ready for your assignment, you were in the Corps. I loved the physical endurance of the obstacle courses, which being a smaller frame, my muscles made bulked in my arms, legs and abs. I was crazy fast and consistent in class and out of class. My week tour at guard duty came while I was serving KP duty for two weeks. For three nights I guarded the food that the base would consume, only challenged one Officer or any rank in that three nights between midnight and 4am. I had passed that part of training and we moved on to the second month with weapons and combat. My prowess with weapons was quickly recognized by the drill instructor and I go a little bit of encouragement on the rifle range enough to qualify 1 point away from and 'expert marksman' medal, so I got "sharpshooter' instead. It was the in your face 'combat', hand to hand' that absolutely convinced me that violence towards another human being would not be possible for me even if I was not on the frontlines. On the last day we were given orders to the northern side of Camp Pendleton for AIT (advanced infantry training, while we were waiting in barracks I and my brother slipped away and started hitch hiking for home. I had received a letter that my sister was now pregnant with her boyfriend's baby and he was beating her at times. I was going back and kick his ass.

Caught in Mairicopa County, NM with bald heads and no belongings, big red flag. The Highway Patrol soon rousted us back to the County jail for military hold. Short trip and now what? Back to the Corps under guard and to the Company Commander. No explanation was good enough and we were returned to the platoon, more KP while we prepared to leave on maneuvers, military slang for let's pretend to kick some ass for real. For one entire day, the first leg of our journey was up an incline of 30 - 35 degrees up. The heavy pack and steepness worsened with the rain turning our trail into mud. Under darkness we approached our objective and dug in for the next days maneuvers. None of us slept as we watched and heard the pre-dawn rumblings of tanks and artillery shells in the distant which lit up the sky. We were ordered forward and soon found the enemy on the other side of the hill, making there assault for that same objective. The battle raged for another night before the maneuver was declared finished. We never found out if we won the battle and if our captured and wounded and kill count was higher than our opponent, but we were all sure we kicked major ass. In the barracks I was pumped with the other guys, inside I was shaking.

I endured the remainder of training with no real sense of accomplishment and we received our orders for the next duty station. Mine was in Florida to Avionic Electronics School with a short stop over at home and my friends. We sat around and talked about the experiences and our Club Leader "Wolf Jack" was there to meet and greet us. Colors on I was introduced and we quickly became friends, brothers and especially Marines. He was just out three months earlier from Vietnam where he was A Ranger Sniper behind enemy lines in teams of two to kill and close down enemy supply lines. He glorified his experiences in stark detail to us all, he was obviously disturbed about some of the events that he had gone through. The taking of another human being's life literally drove me mad and I decided right then and there that I could not in any way support the war in Vietnam. I didn't report to my next duty station.

I purposely stayed at home, not because I was not a patriot, but we should never have been there and thousands lost their lives. My life was worth more to me alive than posturing myself as someone who felt in any way responsible. It was just not what I wanted my life to be involved in at all. So, guess what? I chose the same decision path as before, I walked away. For almost a year I continued to drink and do drugs.

My sister got away from the Club and pleaded with me to shed myself of them, come home and turn myself in to the military. I did so back in Dallas at the Naval Air Station at the risk with being charged with desertion during war time. I had to sit in front of my relatives, hoping I would turn my life around. I was, hopeful however misguided that thought was behind bars. I was transported to Camp LeJeune, NC where I was detained pending transport. It was encouraging my military guards were pleasant and allowed me the trip without any undue humiliation. The same was not true on my trip to my Naval Air Station in Jacksonville, FL where I was put in maximum security for two months. After what seemed an eternity my Captain arrived and took charge of me from the brig. My hope was blurry after speaking with my JAG lawyer, the prosecutor was going to make an example of my case. He had recommended two and a half years in federal prison and a bad-conduct discharge. That brightened my day, I talked with my 1st Seargent and he talked to the CO. They brought me in and flatly stated take an undesirable discharge and go home. I did and was on the bus that evening.


My stay was brief at my mom's, I said goodbye and headed to her sister's to start a new life. This was where I was when I turned the corner from my teens to the twenties. I landed a better than average job at a local manufacturing plant here in the city of Independence, KS. Today I live in that very city which has started to accept me for who I am today, but I'll get to that.

GID on Bill O'Reilly show

The issue of GID came up on "The Factor" this morning at 4am cst. It seemed everyone addressing the issue seriously talked between snickers over what they knew Bill was going to say and react. They were right, Bill admittedly didn't know a lot about the subject, but his line of questioning on whether GID is a disorder and should GRS be a medically necessary procedure, simply showed his lack of knowledge on the subject. His references to mtf transsexuals was disgusting to me. Acceptance world! We are here and we are not monsters!

The rampage of thoughts.

Now that I am living a full time woman's life many challenges are before me. I presume that many of you feel as I do 'that was not the first step' "that was a step in many".

My coming out was easy, not, it was step away from who I had to live toward the woman I was inside. I have learned many lessons, as all you have. I hope we can use this site to throw out experiences and comment on others. Come together with me and those who see life as an exchange of ideas and experiences, which strengthen us all.

Be the first….

A strong woman emerged from within me now, the first years.

A strong woman emerges from within.

I have been thinking about this particular subject for awhile now. I figure I am never going to run for any public office, so I have no societal reason to hide anything. I am an open book and think it is about time for me to speak out on life from my eyes and experiences. Although I may reveal some things that may upset some, it may encourage others. I will be, as I said, open, candid, supportive to all who would like to ask me a question. "Love to live, Live to love!"

My earliest memories of my transgender feelings was at the age of five. I was so jealous of what my sisters were wearing I would "borrow" them for a time out of their drawers and closets, wear them and put them back after trying them on in the privacy of my bedroom or bathroom. This was the late 1950's and no father, especially mine, would allow that kind of activity from their son. From age seven - ten I "borrowed" my older sisters panties and a dress and spent as much time in them that I could, then back into the closet and hamper they would go. My brushes with my inner feelings got me closer and closer to getting caught by age ten. I started "keeping" certain items that became my favorites, the closet became my storage for them behind my other clothes. Then it happened. I was accidently "found out" by some friends, one older boy and his brother my age. I forgot about the clothes when he started rummaging around in the closet, they teased me into putting them on. As we pushed and shoved each other all around the room, the older brother of two years became increasingly more "touchy feely" . His touches and obvious increased aggressiveness stirred something within me I had never felt before. We were boys! Right? Confused with my head spinning I would have my first sexual encounter with him later that day. Our friendships quickly disappeared, I still wonder what happened to those brothers.

Back into the closet, I endured the next couple of years attempting to be "the boy" I was supposed to be. I joined a baseball league and soon found out I was pretty talented. My father wasn't around much, except for one summer he coached my baseball tem, so my mom ran the show. I watched the clothing my two sisters were wearing and was constantly reminded of how drab I was dressed. I stayed in the closet through my parents divorce when I was twelve. With that divorce came stress, doubt and fear. At the age of thirteen, completely confused and lost, I turned to God. My heart was broken, my worst fears were coming true and I just did not know how to move forward. I met my first "true friend" at High School, she brought me to her Pastor and I accepted Christ into my heart. From that moment I felt a stirring to become the 'best I could be' in my life. This was to remain with me for the rest of my life. My Youth Group asked for volunteers to work as 'lay' youth ministers in a Coffee House, famous in the inner cities during the late 60's. I had forgiven myself of my inner thoughts, those thoughts many of you have had as well, about that person inside straining to be free. In those coffee houses I talked and laid Christ in front of them to give them another chance like I perceived would be their way to new life too. I found myself against the wall as many of them, no the majority was involved in some type of drug use. It was the time of free love and self-indulgence. I kept asking myself, how can I talk to these people if I knew nothing about what they were facing. This thought would play itself out in a couple of years. My girl friend became more than a friend, she became my girlfriend for the next two years. She stayed my friend until her death many years later, but I will talk about her later.

That, summer at age fourteen, my mother looked at me and simply told me as 'the man of the house' I was going to have to help with money. We met a friend of hers at the local golf course who was the groundskeeper. All he asked was that I work hard for him over the summer clearing out trees and brush for a new nine holes he was adding to the course. I was a small boy, even effeminate. Each day I came home with a new set of blisters on my feet from boots that were to wide, my feet are an 'A' width. Blisters on my hands from pulling brush, chopping small trees all day in the heat and humidity. Every night my mom would tend to each of my blisters and tell me it would get better the longer I worked. It was a terribly hard but rewarding summer. The lessons of hard work and persevering longer than my competition took hold in my habitual living routines. That fall, now a Sophomore, my girlfriend and I began to discover relationships as we rode on a hayride together. As I kissed her tenderly she put my hand on her coat where her breasts would have been had it not been for the heavy coat she was wearing. Stranger feelings came over me as I wasn't sure how to begin a relationship with her, my feelings disturbed me and I tried hard to have normal boy girl feelings. During the football season I was growing more interested in girls, but it was all different. I did not see the girls as the guys my age did, I wanted to be around them, quiet but ready to jump into any girl talk. I watched as some of the girls in school slipped around to the side of the building and kissed a boy as he attempted to 'cop a feel'. It was a strange feeling I would get and I would quickly look away. I was an "A' 'B' student always working hard to be closer to the top of the class. I took on Cross Country and Track running the long distances gave me time to reflect. In the spring of my Sophomore, my math teacher would run a few miles after school with me. I felt closer to him than I had ever felt with a man. I was drawn to his gentleness, kind words, encouragement and the way he looked at me.

That summer my mom accepted a new job in Dallas, I was shocked, disappointed and angry. I was having to leave behind all my girl friends and all my hopes for High School academics and sports. I enrolled at Hillcrest High School and was told I had enough credits to graduate as a 'Junior', I was re-energized. I did my very best that Junior year, this was my chance to be free and on track with who I wanted to be. In the spring of that same year, which I had laid low to avoid any trouble in the big city, my School records were re-examined and I lacked World History. OMG, this meant I had to spend one more year in this school I had come to hate immensely. Dazed, confused and even angrier I shuffled through the remainder of the year. I had left everything behind, including the girl inside of me, I thought. The end of my junior year 1970.

In June I turned sixteen and had two fulltime jobs to purchase my first car, a 1971 Ford Pinto right off the showroom floor. $1,800+ interest. I worked one position in new car make ready at a Chevrolet dealership and another at a filling station pumping gas at night, these two jobs made it possible for me to feel independent. I was a boy, no girls in my life, just guys. The crowd I fell into over the summer, admittedly, were not good for me. In my rebellion against my mother who took all my hopes and dreams away alienated me from her authority and I started smoking marijuana with my friends. One day I was working at the filling station, Pete the mechanic, began nicely teaching me how to service cars that needed oil changes and lubrication. The more I learned, the more he wanted to teach me. I didn't want to be a auto mechanic but it was my job and my persevering and hard work attitude began to get me "raises"! My first life lesson was paying off, I was a hardworking 'boy'. It was July and my jobs and friends consumed most of my time, raises at both jobs. Pete was spending more time with me teaching me about the station and how it was run from front to back. At the Chevy dealership I had an additional job given to me, running car exchanges between dealerships for customer purchases. I was very happy it seemed I was doing well in the game of life. My friends and work were all guys and I enjoyed being the center of attention. My feelings were not sexually based although many of them did turn my eye a few times.

I was working my last night of the week at the filling station when Pete asked me if I would like to hang out the next evening, movie and pizza on him. He was nice, my father's age, so I said I would see if it was ok. Instead he said he would call my mom and ask she gave her approval. I was not curious when he told her if the movie was too late then we would stay at his house and go to work with him Sunday morning. I met him at the station after my day at the dealership, he was just finishing up and said we needed to stop at his house and he was going to clean up. When we arrived at his house, he told me to get comfortable and went to the kitchen. When he came back through he handed me a drink, I did not drink, but I asked him what it was. He said just a little whiskey in seven-up as he said he would be out in a few minutes. I was nervous, alone with a drink in a strange house but I took a sip of the drink and then gulped a couple of swallows. I don't remember how long it was, it seemed like a long time, he yelled to me asking if I was doing alright. I was feeling quite giddy and laughed back at him I was good. A short time after that I started feeling woozy and tired, I put the drink on the coffee table and sat back. Lights out, what happened next would set me on the most frightening time of my life.

I hit an emotional moment and decided to post this first entry.

A strong woman emerged from within.

This is the first blog on this new site.

I hope that I can get some real support from my readers.

My blogspot is intended for the edification and support for all those who are searching for the woman inside. We live lives together and separate from our male lives. My blogs will be viewed from my eyes and the impact on my life living transsexual.

Welcome to "A strong woman emerged from within."