The Stephanie Chronicles

[Jayne01]

Tran-sister... love the term. 
After all those decades I suppressed it, being a re-sister.

*** Bump-Powww ***

That is funny, but appropriate.  But I need to know, to go from a re-sister to a trans-sister, did you first have to pass through a trans-former?

[steph2.0]

*** Bump-Powww ***

That is funny, but appropriate.  But I need to know, to go from a re-sister to a trans-sister, did you first have to pass through a trans-former?

Yes. That is the trans-mission.

[Jayne01]

[emoji23]

[Sno]

That's because the autoformer failed, and my capacity for puns is shocking.

Rowan

[Kendra]

Ohm my.  Currently positive or neutral.

[steph2.0]

I was going to tell you to watch your amplitude, but it's actually kind of Coulomb. I'm seeing these things with increasing frequency.

And don't tran-sit in your trans-Continental. Work on your trans-fat or you're going to ruin your trans-figure.

[Kendra]

I figure some of us have our quarks.  According to string theory I shouldn't impede your thread as that would be a negative sine to a void.  A hormonic frequency in relativity terms.

Speaking of figure I'll raise ourglass, a toast to transposing.

[steph2.0]

Hi Friends,

Not sure exactly why I'm posting this right now. I guess the contrast with the next message I post will illustrate how quickly and thoroughly things can change, and how fragile and superficial happiness is. This is a lightly edited version of an email I sent my mom and a friend yesterday.

My mom had emailed to say that she hadn't heard from me for a while, and wondered if everything was ok.
========

No, things aren't "OK." Instead, they're really quite wonderful. As you may have read on my Facebook page, I had been thinking aloud to a dear friend about when I would leave my old self behind, and finally allow myself to live full-time as who I know myself to be. I paraphrased my friend's statement as, "Full-time is less a decision as it is a realization." Well, I have accepted myself, and I have realized that everyone around me is pretty much accepting - or at least tolerating - my new self. It's snuck up on me so quietly I didn't know it was happening, but I realized that I haven't slipped into my old role in quite a while now.

Last Tuesday I finally found out from the County Family Court Clerk where I could get my fingerprints electronically submitted for the background check for my name change court order. I drove to the courthouse in a neighboring county in what I call "androgynous mode" to get it done. No problem, and afterwards I went back to the car, brushed out my hair, grabbed my purse, and walked downtown to a restaurant which is right on the lake at a seaplane base. I had a nice lunch, and though I was nervous, and I think the waitress may have "read" me, she was still very nice. She got a big tip and a Thank You on the receipt.

Last Sunday a bunch of us were going to fly to breakfast, and I decided I it was time that the neighborhood got used to seeing me the way I was going to be seen the rest of my life here. It was a bit of a milestone moment for me as I get ready to go, though it certainly wasn't anything over the top. Just some of my favorite casual feminine clothes. I didn't want to shock anyone too badly, so I put my stuff in my Eagle Creek "tech bag" I've been carrying for years, instead of taking a purse. I was getting all keyed up with the thought of getting this speed bump behind me, and... we had to cancel because of fog. I felt like a balloon with all the air let out. Text messages flew back and forth about postponing and going to lunch later, and we finally all got an invitation to meet at a neighbor's and enjoy each other's company with hot cinnamon rolls. The thought of changing back to "old mode" occurred to me, but then I decided, no, let's get this done. And there were no bad comments. Admittedly, there was only one good comment, a compliment on my blouse, but otherwise, everything was normal, with the regular banter and jokes and discussion about airplanes and other good things. And that's what I needed. Normalcy and stability proved to me that I was still accepted as the same person. Actually, things were still a little too normal - while all of my neighbors have started calling me "Steph," one in particular continues to use the incorrect pronouns (he, him, his). Right now, even though it hurts a bit, I'm taking it with wry acceptance. I understand that the flipside of them still seeing me as the same person is they haven't been pushed to think about who I am now, and the changes that are taking place.

A group of us were going to fly to a resort town on the Gulf of Mexico yesterday, and again it was going to be my debut flight as me. This time I decided to avoid half-measures, and while I was still casual, I did use some makeup and tried to make myself look as good as possible. And again we were fogged in. I moped around and did things around the house part of the day, and everyone finally decided to meet for dinner at a BBQ place at 5:30. I grabbed my purse and hat and drove to Kohl's to do some shopping. I needed a lightweight jacket, and ended up finding one, along with a nice cardigan. There was quite a line to check out, and it made me a bit nervous, knowing I'd be in such close proximity to other people. And it was fine, with a little bantering about why there where so many people waiting, with one guy asking me what they were giving away. The cashier asked, "Would you like to keep the hangers, ma'am?" and we tried to figure out how to use a discount code. Apparently she didn't notice anything unusual, which I just what I'd hoped for.

I nervously considered dropping in on my mom unannounced, but then realized I was running late for dinner and had to get to Leesburg. Some of the neighbors had already seen me in full "me mode" but some others there hadn't - and once again, all was normal, including the continued misgendering by the one neighbor, even in front of the waitress. At one point I mentioned the fingerprints and court order, and a few didn't know what it was for. I explained that it was for the name change, and that was a good time to put them on notice that when the change is made official, it will be time to end the misgendering. Maybe that got some wheels turning in those heads. It ended up being a nice dinner anyway.

Today, my wife and I met up with a friend I'd made at one of the support groups I go to. We met for breakfast at a bakery, then went to a Renaissance Faire. My friend is as geeky as my wife and me, and is also transgender, so we had plenty to talk about. We ended up getting getting soaked in the rain on the way out, but went back to the same restaurant on the lake that I'd been to earlier in the week for lunch anyway. We had more interesting conversation while we ate and dried out. After we got home, another neighbor came over and I helped him with his phone and some navigation software on his tablet, still in full me mode. And everything is fine, despite him slipping on my name a few times. I got revenge, though. While I worked on his phone I snuck into his Contacts and changed my name to Steph. He won't have any idea how it happened, and maybe it'll help him remember. To be fair, he was one of the first to try to use Steph all the time, so an occasional slip-up is forgivable.

We're going to try to go to the resort town on the Gulf one more time tomorrow, and again I plan to do it all as myself. Hopefully this time it'll work. But whether it does or not, it seems to be a foregone conclusion that my old self is in the past now.

My friend who was the second person I came out to sent me an email telling me we need to visit with her sometime soon. We've determined that we wear the same size clothes, and she has a room full that she wants me to look through and take home. She also wants to take us out for a nice dinner. She was the first one to give me total acceptance, to the point where she told me I'd better not show up at her house in my old male mode, since she considers him to be gone. We've proposed a date toward the end of the month to drive up there. It sounds like loads of fun.

My neighbor made me smile the other day. He told me that he'd been talking with one of the guys who help me around the shop in the winter. He asked my neighbor what he thought about my situation, and he told him, "Hey, he was a great guy, and now she's a great girl. We need to support her." He thought about it, and agreed that my neighbor was right. Wow. Can't ask for anything better than that.

And to top it all off, something very cool happened tonight. I told you about my mini-meltdown about four weeks ago, when I saw an old man looking back at me in the reflection of our kitchen window. Well tonight, I was walking toward one of the porch doors to let my dog in, and I saw someone in the reflection that matched the image I have of myself in my head. She isn't as young as I'd like, but that's what we all think, isn't it? She looked good. And happy. And the reflection and I smiled at each other.

I could type all night, telling you about how well things are going, and how happy I am overall. I really don't have a frame of reference, but this must be what it feels like to be normal. Or maybe it's better than normal. I mean, how many people get to have their dreams come true?

=======

Sounds good, right. Read the next message.

[steph2.0]

Lightly edited version of an email to a friend:

==========

We finally had the weather to fly to that small resort town on the Gulf. The only other people going were my neighbor and his wife, so I knew it would be interesting, but I thought I was prepared. They've been good at using "Steph," but he continually misgenders me. I don't really talk with his wife much, so I didn't know how she's adapting.

This was to be my debut fly-out as myself. I used every single trick I know to get myself looking as good as I can, and I thought I was doing ok, but was still nervous about it all. As usual, though, when the engine starts, all that stuff gets compartmentalized and tucked away so I can get to the business of flying.

It wasn't until we were on the way that I found out that they had invited another friend and his wife to meet us there. I've gotten to know him a little, and we've always had good conversations whenever I run across him. I've never met his wife, and neither of them know what I'm dealing with.

It was a bumpy flight and an interesting approach on what looks like an aircraft carrier. I made a good landing though, and my neighbors were waiting for us.  When I got out of the plane I unpacked that compartment in my head and all the anxiety came spilling out, with the added complication of what was going to happen when my neighbor's friend got there and found out, without me having any chance to explain or prepare him. I debated with myself at the last minute whether to just keep my flying cap on or switch to my "girl hat," and whether to add a few accessories like a scarf and a cardigan I had thrown in the back of the plane. After dithering until they yelled to get going, I chickened out and left all that stuff in the plane.

We caught a taxi into town and wandered around the shops until we got hungry, then went to a fish place for lunch. I took the left seat by the window with my neighbor's wife across from me and my wife on my right.

In a little while my neighbor's friend and his wife came in. He sat to my wife's right and his wife across from him. He looked across my wife and we said Hi to each other. I was introduced to his wife as Stephanie, and she seemed to accept that with no question. He paused and said, "No, it's not Stephanie!", and my wife told him, "Yes, it is." He paused and said, "Whatever." And ignored me the rest of the meal.

I probably could have gotten through that, but then both my neighbor and his wife started using male pronouns, which would have been bad enough one on one, but they even did it in front of their friend's wife and the waitress. Each time it happened my spirit got pushed down further and further, until I withdrew from everything and just stared out the window.

Here I was, with a nice blouse with flowers embroidered on the sleeves, my hair out, makeup and earrings - and, well... TMI or not, a bra - and he sees a guy. What was left of my confidence was completely shattered. And I had to use the bathroom. What the hell was I going to do now? The rule is that you use the bathroom that matches the way you're presenting, and though I was sure I wasn't fooling anyone any more, I grabbed tight to whatever courage I had left, excused myself, grabbed my purse, and went to the ladies room, locking myself in a stall as quickly as I could. There I fought with everything I had to keep from breaking down completely. I was in there so long fighting off a panic attack that the automatic lights timed out and everything went dark. Just as well. It certainly matched my mood.

While I never enjoy people talking behind my back, I figured getting out of earshot would give them a chance to get a few things worked out regarding me. Apparently it never happened. When I finally got back things were the same, and when we left the restaurant I walked off to go look out over the Gulf alone and try to figure out what to do next. My wife caught up with me there and tried to get me out of my funk. She finally ended up telling me I was being childish. That was pretty much the nail in the coffin. She had been my rock. I've told everyone that she literally saved my life. And now she is discounting the depth of pain that I'm feeling. What's left?

We found the rest of the group as the taxi arrived, and on the ride back to the airport I packed up that compartment in my head and strapped it tight for the flight home. There's no room for that kind of baggage up front when there's flying to be done. We dodged showers and got a little wet a few times, but no big deal. Got the plane into the hangar and safe, then went inside and sat down to unpack the baggage. I threw all those girl clothes into a heap at the foot of the bed, crawled in, and let myself have a major meltdown.

I slept the rest of the afternoon, and I thought that would help, but here I sit with a stomach ache and a wet face, questioning what the hell I'm doing to myself.

While I was typing this my wife came in, and we just got done having a long conversation. Things will be ok, but most of the conversation centered around how I should have handled it better.

Yes, I know I should have stuck up for myself.

Yes, I hardly ever see my neighbor's friend, and his opinion of me shouldn't matter.

Yes, I should have been strong enough to laugh it off.

Yes this. Yes that.

Maybe yesterday I could have. Maybe tomorrow I can. But today I hurt.

The sadness is strong, and valid, and incredibly traumatic.

Steph... or whoever I am...

[Megan.]

Finally, I get to give to give you a big hug back in return for the many you've given me. HHUUUUUGGG!

I'm so sorry to hear about your neighbours,  it's often worse when we labour under the opinion that others support us to only find out later that might not be true.

Firstly,  you ARE Steph,  and I won't hear any other nonsesnse to the contrary.

Second, even those that love us and care for us may still fail to understand the pressures we face on occasion; that's just human nature.

Thirdly no-one is bulletproof. You're more than entitled to be damaged, but you'll also recover stronger than before. Find those safe physical and mental spaces to rebuild your positive energy before taking your fabulous self back out into the world.

Keep strong, you got this. X

Sent from my MI 5s using Tapatalk

[KathyLauren]

I am so sorry that this happened to you, Steph.  No one deserves to be treated like that, and no one should ever be told that they should have been stronger, when the problem is that other people are d**kh**ds.  I am sorry too that you are feeling unsupported.

You are strong, and you will bounce back from this.  In the meantime, here's a hug: (((())))

Have you considered that your neighbours' continued misgendering might not be accidental?  Have you considered that your neighbours might have anticipated their friends' reaction and planned for it?  A little bit of paranoia is not a bad thing.

[Charlie Nicki]

 Hi Steph,

I'm sorry for that. I'm also sending you a virtual hug and hope things get better soon! You are a fighter and this is only a small bump on the ride. The good thing is that you will be more prepared if this ever happens again (let's hope not).

This reminds me that we have to educate people about ourselves and if they slip up, we have to remind them to use female pronouns and our chosen name. I know it's easier said than done specially if we feel pressured or stressed.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

[steph2.0]

Thanks Megan and Kathy. Here I sit in my doctor's office to get my normal blood tests done. Only my doctor knows about my transition, none of the other staff, so I face using my old name and going in "androgynous mode."  The lady I like most here has always called me "Mister Steve" and though it's always said in a friendly manner, I'm not looking forward to it.

A lady just sat down next to me in a flowing skirt and nice peasant top and I'm so dysphoric I'm almost in tears.

The killer thing? I saw "her" again in the mirror this morning. But it's evident that nobody else sees her. I know I shouldn't care about what other people think, but really, if we don't seek external validation, if just knowing internally that we are women is supposed to be enough, why transition at all?

Kathy, I really don't think my neighbors did any of it on purpose. They're just highly social people and always try to get as many friends together as possible. When I walked off to get my act together, they checked with my wife to make sure I was going to be ok flying home. And when I got home, my neighbor's wife texted me to apologize for hurting my feelings, and that they were worried about me. I'm still not sure if she even knows what she did, but I appreciated the gesture.

Anyway, I'll keep moving forward somehow. I'll go out to the shop and try to stay busy enough to distract myself so I don't have to think about it.

It's a nice Florida autumn day, but everything looks gray right now.

[Kendra]

One reason I am more thick-skinned than average (or I can be thick-headed) is I endured a ridiculous amount of racial discrimination when I was younger.  I don't mean polite questions such as "what's your, um, ethnic heritage if you don't mind me asking" but being thrown into the mud by a pack of bullies in school in full view of the line of school busses, bus drivers and other school staff - on more than one occasion - and having the Arlington School District (Washington State) do absolutely nothing about it.  So my parents drove me to regular Karate lessons in the nearest place available (one hour round trip) with the instructions to never start a fight but never lose one.  Racism isn't always directly intentional but it can be very damaging.  I could fill pages with what I've encountered on that topic but I won't. 

The judgement call is when someone is simply clueless.  Anything more than a gentle reminder can serve the wrong purpose and make the situation worse for next time or cause resentment to a group that seeks to normalize and be treated as equals.  When that happens I'll have a gentle side conversation with that person to let them know their words really did hurt, I am assuming it wasn't intentional but tell them for my sake and others'.  If it's someone I'll never see again and I don't have the time, it's more like having some idiot honk unnecessarily in traffic, just know that at some point they will learn the hard way but I don't have time to tell them. 

And there are people who fling arrows intentionally - like the <moderate my own language> at Chipotle fast food in July who loudly called me "sir" from behind the counter and... she wasn't even working on my meal, someone else was and she was visibly happy to make a point.  So I promptly replied, loud enough so everyone heard my reply to her: "Oh.  Have a great day.  SIR!"  That felt pretty good but didn't quite make up for the sting.  In hindsight, as a clearly deliberate act I should have determined her name and contacted the restaurant's corporate office.

Regaredless of outcome you didn't do anything wrong - it's on the other person.  These things don't always have perfect answers and I certainly don't have the right one ready at all times for myself.  All I can advise is it gets easier with time.  Much easier.

[Laurie]

Steph(anie),

  Like everyone else I was dismayed to read your account of your lunch encounter. I wish it could have been better for you but the reality of it is you are going to have some of these encounters and all you can do is pick yourself up and carry on. Dwelling on your woes will do you no good. But accepting that it is going to happen will make you stronger.
  Now girl, are you going to let little disappointment like this cause you to crash and burn? Or are you going to pick your hurt feelings up and fly like an eagle? I'd much rather see you fly girl.

((hugs))
  Laurie

https://www.google.com/search?q=fly+like+an+eagle+song&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8

[steph2.0]

One reason I am more thick-skinned than average (or I can be thick-headed) is I endured a ridiculous amount of racial discrimination when I was younger.

Hi Kendra,

I've read some of your earlier entries here, so I know some of what you went through. People can really suck. I think it's probably true that things are better today regarding such prejudice, though obviously we still have a long way to go.

It can in no way compare to what you went through, considering I was a white lower-middle-class boy from the suburbs, but I felt like an outcast, too. I was the small nerd (before the word was even in common usage) among my classmates. Always last in line for pictures because they lined you up by height to make it easier for the photographer to adjust his camera. I never felt like I fit in. Always had a hard time making friends, and was so terrified of losing the few I had that I let them be cruel to me without abandoning them. I vividly remember the day in junior high school when my "friends" grabbed me and threw me upside down into one of those giant garbage cans in the common area. "Noogies," "indian burns," "wedgies," constant threats of "swirlies" (though that never actually happened). Verbal abuse, insults. I absorbed them all just to keep from being alone. In elementary school I often ended up sitting against a tree in the nearby woods alone during recess, even in the snow. The closest I ever got to being in a fight was in elementary school when, after being mercilessly razzed by a classmate, I shoved him up against a block wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle. Guess who got in trouble for that? I always got great grades, but was called slow because it took me so long to get done with anything. I've told a few people about how it went for me, and they tell me they felt the same kind of anomie, and it was just a normal part of growing up. I dunno. I didn't see anyone one else out there sitting alone in the snow.

I have no idea whether any of this had anything to do with my trans condition, but by junior high I definitely knew there was something wrong with the "suit" I was wearing. I always felt more comfortable among the girls, but of course that was verboten. I remember I adored a girl down the street who had some of the same nerdy tendencies I did. We spent a heavenly afternoon together experimenting with capacitors and batteries and light bulbs. I could hang out with a girl without looking like a sissy, and I was devastated when she moved away. I hated gym class with a passion. I would do anything to avoid going into the boy's locker room. Getting naked and showering with all the other boys was a mortifying experience. I was immensely relieved when I found out you could get out of gym by taking band class, and from 5th grade on I never went back into the locker room.

I was terrified of my father. He had a terrible temper. I've realized over the years that he probably would never have acted on his threats, but both my sister and I lived in fear of what he might do. He wasn't into sports, but did do the gender-typical hunting and fishing, etc. As the boy, I was expected to do the same, and though I did develop a love of being out in the woods, I would much rather carry a camera than a gun. I did have to get an NRA marksman award, earn the Eagle Scout rank, get a ham radio license, rebuild cars (specializing in Corvairs, believe it or not), go deer, partridge, and squirrel hunting, and endure hour after hour of fishing, usually trolling for northern pike. It all felt like an enormous waste of time, when I could be warm and comfortable reading a book. As mentioned, I did learn to love being in the wild, with some of my best memories being all the hiking and canoeing I used to do in northern lower Michigan while growing up. It got me away from other people and the stress of trying to fit in. I understood my dog better than people.

Uh... well, that devolved into a painful autobiography. I'll stop there. Sorry to lay it on you all, but it was a bit cathartic.

The judgement call is when someone is simply clueless.  Anything more than a gentle reminder can serve the wrong purpose and make the situation worse for next time or cause resentment to a group that seeks to normalize and be treated as equals.  When that happens I'll have a gentle side conversation with that person to let them know their words really did hurt, I am assuming it wasn't intentional but tell them for my sake and others'.

I got a lot of "therapy" today from dear friends who saw I was hurting, and we talked about just that. One solution we came up with for dead-naming or misgendering was to carry business cards that say something like this:

My name is Stephanie.
My friends call me Steph.
My pronouns are she, her, and hers.
I can be addressed as miss, ms., or ma'am.

You owe me 25 cents.

Include a silly illustration to keep it light. And discreetly give it to whoever messes up. None of the people I care about have intentionally misgendered me, but it happens all the time even with those with the best intentions. Embarrassing them in front of everyone else isn't productive.

I agree that pushing too hard can get you pushback. It's one of the reasons you won't find me marching in protest parades or attending rallies. How do you think people are going to react when you get in their face and call them bad people in front of a crowd? I admire those who are willing to push the envelope - the boundaries never get expanded if you don't lean on them. But I choose to do it discreetly, one-on-one, and with sensitivity to when it may be more than the listener is able to handle at the time.

And there are people who fling arrows intentionally - like the <moderate my own language> at Chipotle fast food in July who loudly called me "sir" from behind the counter and... she wasn't even working on my meal, someone else was and she was visibly happy to make a point.  So I promptly replied, loud enough so everyone heard my reply to her: "Oh.  Have a great day.  SIR!"  That felt pretty good but didn't quite make up for the sting.  In hindsight, as a clearly deliberate act I should have determined her name and contacted the restaurant's corporate office.

I'm sorry to hear that. She must have been pretty insecure to feel like she'd make points for herself by disrespecting someone else like that. I don't think I would have had the nerve to do what you did, but reporting them to their employer would be good payback, even if you never learned the results. Would she have learned a lesson or just gotten more resentful? I don't understand people well enough to figure that one out.

Regaredless of outcome you didn't do anything wrong - it's on the other person.  These things don't always have perfect answers and I certainly don't have the right one ready at all times for myself.  All I can advise is it gets easier with time.  Much easier.

Yeah, it's another lesson learned, and it was pointed out today that experiencing such things can make you stronger and more prepared for the next time it happens. And I know it will happen again.

My neighbor mentioned a Tom Petty (RIP) song called Rhino Skin. I need to look that one up.

Steph

[Jayne01]

Steph, I am proud of you for finding ways to rise above your pain and thinking of ways to correct the situation if/when it happens again. I agree that pushing too hard can be counter productive. Approaching it discretely and with the sensitively you talk about will likely have a better outcome. It will display a higher level of emotional maturity on your part and make it more probable that the listener would follow your lead and respect your wishes.

I very much hope you are feeling better. I am following this thread with great interest. You are further ahead in your transition than I am. You give me great hope that my transition goes as well as yours is going. You also have a very cool hobby...[emoji4]

Jayne

[steph2.0]

Like everyone else I was dismayed to read your account of your lunch encounter. I wish it could have been better for you but the reality of it is you are going to have some of these encounters and all you can do is pick yourself up and carry on. Dwelling on your woes will do you know good. But accepting that it is going to happen will make you stronger.
  Now girl are you going to let little disappointment like this cause you to crash and burn? Or are you going to pick your hurt feelings up and fly like an eagle? I'd much rather see you fly girl.

((hugs))

Hi Laurie,

I was hoping you'd check in. I worry when you get too quiet.

I haven't figured out why it got to me the way it did. It's curious that it's about 3 1/2 weeks since my last meltdown. I have a hard time believing it's a cyclic thing, though my neighbors said, "Welcome to our world, girl." I went back and looked up the dates of meltdowns bad enough to write about. I started with the first bad one on August 30th and added 3.5 weeks. Nothing noted there. Added 3.5 weeks to that and hit dead on October 18th, a documented meltdown day. 3.5 weeks after that brings us to the current one. There's no cycle to my HRT, it's all very steady dosages, but there's no denying the weird timing.

August 30th - three day meltdown
September 23rd - nothing noted. Don't remember what happened that day, if anything.
October 18th - the "old man in reflection" meltdown
November 12-13th - current "misgendering" meltdown

That puts the next cycle around December 8th. I'll be watching closely.

My friend Dee texts me at least once a day to share how things are going for her and to check on me. She lives about a half hour away, and when she found out I was hurting she jumped in her car and drove right over. She has BTDT, being trans herself. We talked for hours. In the middle of it all my friends who had taken me to Disney dropped by, and added their support and help to Dee's. Though I didn't have a complete solution worked out, I did feel better when they left. Later in the day, when I felt well enough to get out of the house and take my dog for a walk, I ran across a couple of my neighbors (women who are very supportive) and I felt even better after talking with them. So maybe I'm on the upswing.

I guess it's a matter of "What doesn't kill me just maims me stronger." Or something like that.

Oh look: A stupid joke. Maybe I am getting better.

Steph

[Laurie]

  I'm right here Steph(anie). Even if I have little or nothing to contribute I'm here reading. Your tale is one of the ones I make sure I read. Sometimes it is just best for everyone if I keep quiet.

Laurie

[steph2.0]

Steph, I am proud of you for finding ways to rise above your pain and thinking of ways to correct the situation if/when it happens again. I agree that pushing too hard can be counter productive. Approaching it discretely and with the sensitively you talk about will likely have a better outcome. It will display a higher level of emotional maturity on your part and make it more probable that the listener would follow your lead and respect your wishes.

I very much hope you are feeling better. I am following this thread with great interest. You are further ahead in your transition than I am. You give me great hope that my transition goes as well as yours is going. You also have a very cool hobby...[emoji4]

Thanks Jayne. I got a lot of good advice and hugs today, and things are getting better. And look, my Kleenex stock went up again!

As for the hobby: go get your biennial and get back in the air, girl! (I assume they require that in Australia.) You know you want it! Come on, everybody's doing it...

Steph