The Story of Lori

[LoriDee]

From my earliest memories, I knew that I was different. I didn't know in what way, just different. My behaviors seemed to be misunderstood. They thought I was doing x when I was trying to do y. There were times when I was convinced that I was some kind of alien sent to Earth to observe humans. In the third grade, I spent recess periods in the nurse's office, not due to injury, but as "protective custody" from the bullies who found it entertaining to assault me daily, both verbally and physically. I confided in a friend that I did not understand why this was happening, and he told me that it was because "I cried like a girl" and they were amused by it. I vowed then and there to never cry again.

The physical assaults moved off-campus and the bullies would catch me walking home from school and beat on me. My parents' efforts in talking to the school and the parents of the bullies had no effect. I had three younger brothers (I am the oldest) and my dad decided to teach us boxing so we could defend ourselves. As the oldest, the only people I had to spar with were my younger brothers. One pop to the face, down they went with a bloody nose. Mom put an end to that right there while telling me how I was responsible for looking after them, not giving them bloody noses. My only form of self-defense was running away. I became VERY good at running. By Middle School, I made the track team.

As a teen, I had no interest in sex. I had enough lectures from my parents about morality, teen pregnancy, etc. and I found that I enjoyed hanging out with girls. They were doing something meaningful: communicating with each other, while the boys were just interested in football, wrestling, and fighting. Of course, what they saw was this nerdy guy hanging out with "their" girlfriends, while they were busy trying to impress the other guys. They thought I was trying to move in on their girls. This resulted in more physical confrontation and more running practice for me.

Later, my parents divorced and remarried. My stepfather was an abusive monster who would constantly call me names like "Mary" or "sissy". It was him that convinced me that to avoid harassment I had to "man up". I began working in his welding shop until I could find an escape.

I tried to think of the manliest job I could come up with and I would strive to get there. Back in the late 1960s and early 70s, nobody knew much about transgender people. In my world, there were two options. You were either gay or straight, and if you were gay, you got a beating. I knew I wasn't gay because I was not attracted to men, women, or anything. I recognize beauty and handsomeness, but I never looked at someone and thought that I would like to have sex with them. I decided that the manliest job that I could get would be to join the Army. The recruiter had no openings for the nerdy things I was interested in, like computers. He showed me three brochures: Infantry, Artillery, and Armor. Infantry involved a lot of walking. Artillery was big cannons, but that would mean hauling big bullets. Armor. Tanks. Big guns with no walking and the tank hauls its own ammo. YES. Give me a tank!

During basic training, I learned some very valuable lessons. 1. Never volunteer for anything. 2. Never admit to any skills you might possess. 3. Everyone is anti-gay, so you better be too. I learned very quickly to "man up" and do the things that were expected of a manly man. It was the perfect camouflage. I also learned how to "play the game". The military does some strange things that make no sense. "Hurry up and Wait". Don't use soap dishes, ashtrays, or trash cans because they get dirty and won't pass inspection. The only way to escape living in the barracks with a bunch of guys and no privacy was to get promoted to Sergeant. The only way to get promoted was to play the game better than anyone else. So I did. I practiced every military skill to make sure that I was the absolute best. I didn't want to be the best in my unit, I wanted to be the best in the entire Army.

My efforts paid off. I was promoted to "Acting Sergeant" months before I was eligible for promotion. Upon eligibility, I passed all the boards with flying colors and was assigned as the gunner on the company commander's tank. This brought about new challenges because I had to be the best tank gunner in the world AND I was now in a leadership position. I got moved out to private living quarters and I was not about to jeopardize that.

The Army sent me to various leadership training schools and I was in the top 10% every time. I had to. I needed to maintain my image of being the Super Soldier. I excelled in marksmanship and fell into shooting competitions that eventually led to international shooting tournaments. This earned me various awards and added to my camouflage as a manly man. My skills were not just with pistols, rifles, and machine guns, my tank crew was rated top in our battalion. My commanders took notice. They wanted me to train the rest of the company the way I trained myself and my crew. They put me in charge of company training, but it was more of a management position. I didn't determine what training needed to be done, only how to do it. I trained the trainers, and they trained their troops. I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky to attend Master Gunner School. That was a tough course. Scoring in the top 10% was mandatory for graduation. Score less than 90 on any test and they send you home. We started with 53 candidates and graduated 13. I was then assigned as the Master Gunner/Operations NCO.

When I left the service, I was awarded the Meritorious Service Medal (the peacetime equivalent of the Bronze Star). Although I was proud to serve my country and happy with my achievements, I was not happy and I could not understand why.

[more to follow]

[Northern Star Girl]

@LoriDee
Dear LoriDee:
I was captivated by your first post on your new Blog Thread "The Story of Lori"
You did all the things that you needed to do to "survive" and even flourish as you were biding your time to get yourself ahead in the Army.

Your Blog thread is your journal and becomes your "HOME" here on the Forum where members can find you and catch up with your life endeavors.

I not only keep my Blog thread frequently updated but I also keep a private (for my eyes only) personal journal at home... an "old school" pen&paper three ring binder (not a fancy journal book with a nice cover) stuffed with barely legible notes, snapshot photos, memorable greeting cards and letters that my friends have given to me, etc ....  On cold nights I can found sitting in my comfortable chair in front of my fireplace reading over and over my past entries, many times with tears in my eyes. 

When you share your "good news" all of us on the Forum will rejoice with you... and if you report "not-so-news" we will offer our shoulder for you to lean on.

Along with your avid readers and followers, I will be eagerly looking for your future postings as you unravel your continuing "The Story of Lori" and also your postings with your comments and thoughts around the various threads on the Forum.

Many HUGS, and more HUGS
Danielle   [Northern Star Girl]

[LoriDee]

While in the service, my tank crew worked very closely as a team. We became very good friends. One of my friends who was in my platoon, later arrived at my new unit when I was transferred to Germany. As we were already old friends, we hung out a lot. Rumors began to spread that possibly we were a "couple". Working so closely with members of my unit, it is easy to notice who is dating, who is married, who is the drinker, the athlete, or the nerd. One thing that was noticed about me was that I didn't date anyone, ever. In a strong hetero community, this raised questions. My old friend was married and he would jokingly tell me that I needed to get laid. I couldn't tell him that I had no interest in that. But this brought up a chink in my armor, a hole in my camouflage. It is not about appearance alone. I needed to shape myself to fit the mold so I did not stand out and attract attention.

Drinking and dating were added to my agenda. I hung out with the guys in the bars, with their girlfriends and mine. This led to a more serious relationship, marriage, and children. What could be more normal than that?

My efforts to excel in my career came at the cost of always being away from home, either at school or on some assignment. She would get lonely while I was gone, which led to affairs, which led to divorce. I did love her, but could not tolerate disloyalty. I understood her position and sympathized. I tried to make the divorce as painless as possible, more like a mutual agreement to separate. It did not go well.

I have two beautiful children, a boy and a girl. Both are grown and have kids of their own. I am not in contact with them due to a painfully bitter divorce.

Wife #2 was an alcoholic. She had a traumatic childhood in a dysfunctional family, which affected her desire for sex, and that was okay with me. Sex was never important to me. It's not that I don't enjoy it, I most certainly do. It just wasn't a priority in my life. We loved each other and were together for 15 years. She was with me when I left the service.

The VA awarded a disability pension, but I wanted to work. I worked as an Electronics Technician, specializing in alarm systems (fire, burglar, nurse call), then expanded to include computer network wiring, telephone/intercom, commercial sound systems, and master clocks in schools. One cold morning in December, I slipped on some ice in my driveway and fell. I damaged disks in my neck and required fusion of the vertebrae. My neurosurgeon told me that I was done. Total disability. The battle with Social Security took 18 months. Without sufficient income the stress levels on my wife and I were through the roof. And as if we didn't have enough going on we had a family tragedy. Her son committed suicide and she never recovered from that. Her drinking escalated and she died in a Chicago hospital waiting for a liver transplant.

Wife #3 saved my life. I was in bankruptcy and foreclosure, on the brink of being homeless, and living on $100 per month from the VA. The death of my wife left me with huge burdens and a very uncertain future. She was a friend who wanted to move closer to work, and I needed a place to live. She suggested that we get a place together. She agreed to cover expenses until my disability came through.

She kept pressuring me suggesting we should get married. Her parents were old-fashioned and disapproved of their daughter "shacking up" with some unemployed dude. I tried to explain that I did not want to be married. It has not worked out well for me. All she heard was "I don't want to marry YOU." That was not the case at all. She had been very good to me and I loved her so we got married.

Over time, our differences became magnified. We had no common interests. I would try to be involved in her interests, but I was struggling with pain issues and popping Vicodin like Skittles. I never liked the idea of being labeled as "disabled". We began different side businesses at home that I could help with. I enjoyed selling candles and jewelry, but my pain levels prevented me from doing as much as I wanted.

I began looking for alternative ways for pain management. I tried acupuncture, herbal teas, and deep tissue massages. Nothing worked. I read an article about a dentist who had a hypnotist in his clinic who would hypnotize his patients so they could do dental work without anesthesia. The patients reported no pain. I began researching this and enrolled in the HMI College of Hypnotherapy. I had just finished certification as a Clinical Hypnotist when one of my classmates told me about an international college that was looking for students for their online courses. He and I enrolled in the International College for Clinical Hypnosis Practioners. I became certified as a Hypnotherapist in the U.S. and the U.K. and I opened a clinic specializing in pain management.

Wife #3 was not impressed with any of this and seemed extremely jealous of my female patients. Arguments ensued and she believed that the reason I "never wanted to be married" was so I could play the field. My camouflage as the "manly man" was working against me. She saw the role I was so aptly playing, believed it, and automatically assumed I was using my testosterone outside of the marriage. She had an old boyfriend come back to town and no longer had time for me. We agreed to a peaceful divorce.

I had been traveling to South Dakota in the summers as I was learning about gold prospecting. Spending a month camping turned into a couple of months, then spending the entire summer there. I love South Dakota and vowed to move here, retire, and spend my time gold prospecting. I sold my hypnotherapy practice and bought an old pickup truck. I spent one winter building a camper on the back with full insulation, electric lights and heat, and a propane stove. I moved in May and lived in the forest until my apartment became available in November. I filed for divorce and put the past in the past.

In my mind, I was now living the dream. Retired, free to do as I pleased. But I still was not happy. I began to reminisce and concluded that I had not been happy at any time in my life. Sure, I had happy moments, but overall I was not a happy person. I went looking for help.

[more to follow]

[Oldandcreaky]

You're a good storyteller. The story clip-clops along with enough details for spice.

[ChrissyRyan]

From my earliest memories, I knew that I was different. I didn't know in what way, just different. My behaviors seemed to be misunderstood. They thought I was doing x when I was trying to do y. There were times when I was convinced that I was some kind of alien sent to Earth to observe humans. In the third grade, I spent recess periods in the nurse's office, not due to injury, but as "protective custody" from the bullies who found it entertaining to assault me daily, both verbally and physically. I confided in a friend that I did not understand why this was happening, and he told me that it was because "I cried like a girl" and they were amused by it. I vowed then and there to never cry again.

The physical assaults moved off-campus and the bullies would catch me walking home from school and beat on me. My parents' efforts in talking to the school and the parents of the bullies had no effect. I had three younger brothers (I am the oldest) and my dad decided to teach us boxing so we could defend ourselves. As the oldest, the only people I had to spar with were my younger brothers. One pop to the face, down they went with a bloody nose. Mom put an end to that right there while telling me how I was responsible for looking after them, not giving them bloody noses. My only form of self-defense was running away. I became VERY good at running. By Middle School, I made the track team.

As a teen, I had no interest in sex. I had enough lectures from my parents about morality, teen pregnancy, etc. and I found that I enjoyed hanging out with girls. They were doing something meaningful: communicating with each other, while the boys were just interested in football, wrestling, and fighting. Of course, what they saw was this nerdy guy hanging out with "their" girlfriends, while they were busy trying to impress the other guys. They thought I was trying to move in on their girls. This resulted in more physical confrontation and more running practice for me.

Later, my parents divorced and remarried. My stepfather was an abusive monster who would constantly call me names like "Mary" or "sissy". It was him that convinced me that to avoid harassment I had to "man up". I began working in his welding shop until I could find an escape.

I tried to think of the manliest job I could come up with and I would strive to get there. Back in the late 1960s and early 70s, nobody knew much about transgenderism. In my world, there were two options. You were either gay or straight, and if you were gay, you got a beating. I knew I wasn't gay because I was not attracted to men, women, or anything. I recognize beauty and handsomeness, but I never looked at someone and thought that I would like to have sex with them. I decided that the manliest job that I could get would be to join the Army. The recruiter had no openings for the nerdy things I was interested in, like computers. He showed me three brochures: Infantry, Artillery, and Armor. Infantry involved a lot of walking. Artillery was big cannons, but that would mean hauling big bullets. Armor. Tanks. Big guns with no walking and the tank hauls its own ammo. YES. Give me a tank!

During basic training, I learned some very valuable lessons. 1. Never volunteer for anything. 2. Never admit to any skills you might possess. 3. Everyone is anti-gay, so you better be too. I learned very quickly to "man up" and do the things that were expected of a manly man. It was the perfect camouflage. I also learned how to "play the game". The military does some strange things that make no sense. "Hurry up and Wait". Don't use soap dishes, ashtrays, or trash cans because they get dirty and won't pass inspection. The only way to escape living in the barracks with a bunch of guys and no privacy was to get promoted to Sergeant. The only way to get promoted was to play the game better than anyone else. So I did. I practiced every military skill to make sure that I was the absolute best. I didn't want to be the best in my unit, I wanted to be the best in the entire Army.

My efforts paid off. I was promoted to "Acting Sergeant" months before I was eligible for promotion. Upon eligibility, I passed all the boards with flying colors and was assigned as the gunner on the company commander's tank. This brought about new challenges because I had to be the best tank gunner in the world AND I was now in a leadership position. I got moved out to private living quarters and I was not about to jeopardize that.

The Army sent me to various leadership training schools and I was in the top 10% every time. I had to. I needed to maintain my image of being the Super Soldier. I excelled in marksmanship and fell into shooting competitions that eventually led to international shooting tournaments. This earned me various awards and added to my camouflage as a manly man. My skills were not just with pistols, rifles, and machine guns, my tank crew was rated top in our battalion. My commanders took notice. They wanted me to train the rest of the company the way I trained myself and my crew. They put me in charge of company training, but it was more of a management position. I didn't determine what training needed to be done, only how to do it. I trained the trainers, and they trained their troops. I was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky to attend Master Gunner School. That was a tough course. Scoring in the top 10% was mandatory for graduation. Score less than 90 on any test and they send you home. We started with 53 candidates and graduated 13. I was then assigned as the Master Gunner/Operations NCO.

When I left the service, I was awarded the Meritorious Service Medal (the peacetime equivalent of the Bronze Star). Although I was proud to serve my country and happy with my achievements, I was not happy and I could not understand why.

[more to follow]

LoriDee,

Thank you for your military service.  I will read through your blog in more detail and may comment, right now I need to actually be off of here and finish up something.
But I did want to thank you right now for your service to our country.

Chrissy

[imallie]

A tale well-told, and just another example of how each of us arrives her through our own unique narrative.

Bonus points for the pleasant, rhyming title. I feel like the phrase  "The Story of Lori" could easily be repeated over and over as a vocal warmup.😘

[LoriDee]

One of the first lessons we learned about therapy is that a good therapist will see a therapist. Psychologists see a psychologist and psychiatrists see a psychiatrist. There is nothing unusual about this. When you are trying to help someone through a trauma, they unburden themselves onto you. You must then have someone to talk to for the same reason. Additionally, if you have a situation that you are unsure how to handle, a mentor or colleague might be able to give advice.

In school, it was required for us to have a mentor. My classmate who recommended the course in England was quite competitive, so we talked frequently and helped each other. He lived in London, so we stayed in touch via Skype. I established my practice in Illinois but he moved to Thailand to study Eastern philosophy. He and I were very different in the way we approached problems and the methods we used to solve them. That made him a good therapist for me. I think someone who perceived things or did things similar to me would be too easy to agree with me. I needed a different viewpoint.

During one of our weekly meetings, where we got caught up on each other's personal lives, he suggested that I might want to talk to a local therapist in a face-to-face meeting. He said that he felt that I might be dealing with something that he would not be able to help me with. I took his advice and began meeting with a therapist. After a few months, the therapist told me something similar, that I should probably speak with a licensed psychologist, that she did not feel she was qualified to help me go further in my therapy. She suggested a psychologist that she knew and I met with him.

I explained to him that I was trying to examine my behaviors and figure out what was wrong with me. Why was I not happy? Why do I have no desire to be in a "normal" relationship? I did not blame others. In my marriages and other relationships, I was the common factor. It's hard to assume you are right and everyone else is wrong. So what was wrong with me? No matter where I went or what I did, I did not feel "normal" or like I fit in. We began a very in-depth examination of my life. It seemed like I was finally gaining some insight when disaster struck (again).

I was out goldpanning and pulled a muscle in my back. It was very painful, so I packed up my gear and began the long hike out of a very steep canyon. It began to rain and the rocks were getting slippery as I climbed a near-vertical ascent up to the parking area. I slipped on a rock and slid a short distance, but was okay. After I got home, my elbow began hurting. When I fell I landed on my elbow but did not notice at the time. I had my doctor check it out. After many tests, I needed surgery. They did an ulnar nerve transposition, which means they moved my funny bone. My only insurance was Medicare at the time, so I got hit with copays, coinsurance, and deductibles. My finances took a big hit, so my therapy sessions got put on hold.

My disability rating from the VA is due to a back injury that prevented me from doing some things but was not considered total disability. My back was still bothering me and I couldn't afford physical therapy on my arm and my back. I went to the VA to see if they could cover my physical therapy. I didn't know it, but in the decades since I had left the service the VA's policy had changed. Doc said that my disability rating was enough to cover all of my medical costs, including mental health services.

Wait. What?

Including mental health services? Absolutely.

I began seeing a VA psychologist. I permitted my previous psychologist to send his notes so we could dig right into where I left off. Sort of. Every therapist has their methodology and point of view. My new psychologist never looked at the notes. We started from scratch.

I won't embarrass myself and bore you to tears by detailing what went on in those sessions, and they were intense. But I will share what I learned. Maybe as you have been following along, wondering why I brought up this or that, or maybe you related to it, what I learned will kind of explain what was happening.

His observations had him thinking that I might be transgender. I rejected that outright. I am not gay. So we spent many sessions teaching me what transgenderism was and what it was not. I had to learn the difference between biological sex, gender identity, and sexual preference. As he explained, I began to remember things I learned in school about personality, identity, id, and ego. I learned about medical conditions that affect the body's sensitivity to hormones. I learned that DNA is not "binary" as many would have us believe. There is more than just XX and XY. There is also XXY and XYY even though those cases are rare. He allowed me to ask questions, never forcing any ideas upon me, just allowing me to reach my own conclusions. Things started to make sense. He said that in his opinion, I would be described as "asexual trans feminine".

All my life I viewed myself as a girl, but not in a sexual way. My astrological sign is Virgo, the Virgin. That is how I saw myself, feminine but not sexually so. When forced into stereotypical male roles I was very uncomfortable, but I fully understood the consequences if I failed. Later I learned how to fit in and at least appear normal.

I finally asked my psychologist if there was some kind of test that would help me figure out if I am transgender, and he said YES! The test is very simple. We start with Hormone Therapy. Many call it  Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), but in this case, it is FHT (Feminizing Hormone Therapy). Do the hormones for 30 days. If there is ANY sign that this is not right, STOP immediately. Watch for depression, suicidal thoughts, moodiness, and anything that seems like something isn't right. If you experience any of these things, we will stop and look in another direction to figure out what is going on. I continued in therapy for two years before I agreed to take the test. During that time, I began studying on my own to learn all about what I was going through and what this all meant. I stumbled onto a website filled with information, anecdotes, and advice from REAL PEOPLE who were going through the same thing. It is called Susan's Place. Maybe you've heard of it?

I began taking hormones on 11 January 2020 and I feel great! Physically, I felt good, mentally I felt good. All signs pointed to THIS IS IT!

My next obstacle... the VA already knew, but how do I come out to friends and family?

[more to follow]

[Brooke Renee]

Hello Lori,

Your story is captivating!  Both because it so well composed but also because we all have lived similar lives.  Thank you for sharing and I'm looking forward to your next installments! 


Warmly,

Brooke 

[Sarah B]

Hi Lori

You mentioned the following in one of your posts:

I stumbled onto a website filled with information, anecdotes, and advice from REAL PEOPLE who were going through the same thing. It is called Susan's Place. Maybe you've heard of it?

Is it any good?

I began taking hormones on 11 January 2020 and I feel great! Physically, I felt good, mentally I felt good. All signs pointed to THIS IS IT!

About bloody time, your story is fascinating Lori, will wait with abated breath for further installments.

My next obstacle... the VA already knew, but how do I come out to friends and family?

VA already knew?

Tell one member of the family and Chinese whispers will ensue.

Best Wishes and Hugs
Sarah B

[LoriDee]

I have always been an introvert. My psychologist says that it is at least partly due to past traumas. I learned early on how to be alone without being lonely. I had to. In Middle School, I was introduced to the works of Edgar Allan Poe. The beginning of his poem, "Alone" brought me to tears.

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—

I would always have a few friends, but no one that I could really share my innermost feelings with. I tried with my spouses, but there was no way to explain what I did not understand myself. In two years of therapy, I began to learn what I was going through enough to accept that this is who I am. I learned enough that I could explain it to someone if they were willing to listen with an open mind.

The VA already knew that I was transgender. My Primary Care Physician submitted the consult to Mental Health Services. My Psychologist entered a diagnosis of "Gender Dysphoria" and recommended hormone therapy. This brought me back to my Primary, who then submitted a consult to Endocrinology to begin hormone therapy... medications being filled through the VA Pharmacy, and lab technicians who draw blood to monitor said hormones. So my entire Health Care Team was on board, and it was all documented in my health records. But no one else had a clue.

[SIDEBAR] Why do we call it "Gender" Dysphoria? We do not have a problem with our gender. It is Body Dysphoria, and it applies to people who are not transgender as well. We don't try to change our gender, we change our bodies to match our gender. [End Sidebar]

I am a very introspective person. I often think about my behaviors, appearance, and spirituality. Usually overthinking everything. I had gone through the process of accepting who I was and decided that I would no longer play the role I had been forced into my entire life. I was going to be ME.

BUT... (why is there always a but?) In my introspection, I often play the "What if?" game.

What if I tell everyone that I am transgender, and some new test comes along that proves conclusively that I am not?
What if my psychologist was WAY off base?

How do you go back and say "Oops, my bad"?
I don't think there would be any way to recover from that, except maybe to blame it on a brain tumor or something. This weighed heavily on my mind. I even asked my psychologist about this. I asked him how he knew that I am transgender and not a transvestite. Both are classified under the category of transvestism. He said, "We already covered that." Oh?
"Yes. Textbook transvestites are sexually aroused from cross-dressing, and you told me that you are not aroused, just comfortable as if it were nothing different."

Back and forth we went. I finally confessed that I had not come out to anyone and wasn't sure it was even necessary. He disagreed. So we drew up a sheet of Pros and Cons that I was to think over and fill in over the next month. The basic questions were:

1. By telling _______, how will that change their life? How will it change mine?
2. By not telling ________, how will that change their life? How will it change mine?

It was not as easy as it looked. I changed that list many, many times. And still got it wrong.
I jumped on the second question first because that is the easiest. If I don't tell anybody, nobody knows and neither of us is affected. Easy.

But if I tell _____, then they will change their opinion of me. I could lose a friend/family member. Can I live with that? Hmmm. I don't know.

Eventually, the hormones will kick in and it will be difficult to hide my new look. WAIT!
If I hide who I am, play the role expected of me, then nothing has changed. That is obviously not the answer either.

I kept debating this with myself back and forth for months. In the meantime, I had set up a second email address as Lori Dee. I played a lot of online video games and expressed myself through that persona.

I expected the biggest resistance to come from my step-mother. She is a wonderful person, but a devout Catholic. If she disapproves of anything, my dad will follow suit. Next would be my brother. I have two living younger brothers. We lost the youngest in a tragedy when we were all kids. The oldest of the two did some despicable things to me decades ago and we haven't spoken since. My youngest brother and I were always close. I will try to broach the subject with him and maybe get some ideas about how to talk to my dad about this.

My brother is an Over-The-Road truck driver. Occasionally, his route will bring him into town, so we have a chance to catch up. COVID happened and we decided to pause meeting in person for a bit. He is a fundamentalist Christian with VERY strong opinions. When we did meet up, we barely got through the small talk and he began criticizing the words I used. I hadn't even gotten to a point where I could bring up important stuff. I had said "goddamn" and he heard me taking the Lord's name in vain. I told him it was one word not two. He rolled his eyes and I agreed to work on it. I waited on talking to him about more important issues

Several months went by and I sent my mom & dad an email. Just basic catching up, this is what happened this week kind of stuff. I am a gold prospector and they enjoy seeing photos of the Black Hills and reading about how much gold I hauled in that week. I hit send and realized that I had sent it to them from the wrong email address. [insert panic attack]

I quickly sent an email from my dead-name address explaining that I just used the wrong address. My dad called me and wanted to ask questions. Why are you using an alias? I told him everything. I was three years into HRT and five years since I started therapy. He had a lot of questions and I explained it as best I could.

The next day, I got an email from my mom. Here we go. She said that they would support me no matter what I was going through. If I preferred, they would address me as "Lori" and the bottom line is that I am loved no matter what. I was shocked, but it was SO welcomed.

Next, I got a phone call from my dad. He assured me that he loves me dearly, BUT...
he was there when I was born and I will ALWAYS be his SON. I tried to explain the difference between sex and gender but he had other things to do rather than listen to me. And he insisted on calling me "Larry".

I sent an email to my mom. I thanked her for being so supportive and agreeing to address me by my LEGAL NAME. I assured her that I understood that it did not mean she agreed with what I am doing, or even that she understands what I am doing. The fact that she was willing to try to comply with my wishes was greatly appreciated. After that, Dad changed his mind on how he should interact with me. He tries to call me Lori.

My brother called and told me that he and other family members were setting up a 50th wedding anniversary party for my parents. He invited me to join and help out. Time to tell him. I explained that my appearance had changed dramatically since he last saw me, and told him the whole story. His last words to me were that I was "an abomination in the eyes of God" and that he was angry. He would never accept this. I told him I understood his feelings and that his reasoning was flawed. He has no authority to speak on behalf of God, and his refusal to accept me is due to his lack of knowledge on the subject. I said I will always love you, Brother. And he hung up.

Next was my cousin. Her father, my dad's brother, always lived fairly close to us. All of us kids grew up together. My brothers and I had no sisters, and my cousin had no brothers, so we got along more as siblings than cousins. I was talking to her on the phone and told her I had something important to tell her. I told her the story, the abridged version, not what I have been sharing here. She was delighted! Our conversation quickly changed to clothes and make-up and such. She begged me to send her pictures. I had taken a few over the years and sent her those. She called me back and said, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you are a prettier girl than you were a handsome man." Made my day. 

Next, I called her dad, my favorite uncle. By then, word had spread. I told him my story. He asked a few questions, then said he didn't care what I did. It is MY life and he would love and support me no matter what. He has always been there for my family and I really thought he might become distant. Nothing changed. We are just as close as ever.

In a recent conversation with my dad, he brought up that I had "hid" this from him for years. I explained my Pros and Cons list and why I waited. He said that I had forgotten something that was a very important factor. In my deliberations, I never gave him a chance to decide for himself. By not being forthcoming, I was almost being dishonest. I assured him that I am no different now than I have been all my life. The only difference is that now he has information, intimate details, about my life that I had never shared before with anyone.

The moral of this story is that no matter how much you overthink it, it all boils down to honesty. When you deceive others, you are also deceiving yourself. Our entire transition is about being true to ourselves about who we are. Be honest with others too. Let them decide if they will accept it or not.

Some will accept it. Some will accept it and be supportive. Some will have nothing to do with you anymore. Do you need that negativity in your life? Probably not. Surround yourself with loving people who accept you for who you are. Everyone else is basing their decisions on appearances, bigotry, and/or misinformation. Help them understand. But allow them the courtesy to decide if they want to be a part of your life. It is YOUR life after all. Live it!

[REM.1126]

I'd love to change my gender.  I don't know how.  I don't think anyone else does either.  Transitioning is all I have been offered. 

[LoriDee]

I'd love to change my gender.  I don't know how.  I don't think anyone else does either.  Transitioning is all I have been offered. 

Your gender is a facet of your identity. You can no more change it than you can change your soul. It is who you are in this lifetime. There are psychological techniques that can be used to alter or disguise your gender, but it would just be a facade. You cannot be happy if you are being untrue to your self. I can explain why that is, but it would be beyond the scope of this blog. I may address some of these issues over in the Spirituality section at a later date.

[Jessica_Rose]

I'd love to change my gender.  I don't know how.  I don't think anyone else does either.  Transitioning is all I have been offered. 

We were born female. An unfortunate birth defect caused us to be 'assigned male at birth'. It took us a long time to discover the error, even though we knew something was wrong for decades. Now we have a choice. We can either continue living the charade we've been forced to live by family and society, or we can allow our soul to escape the darkness in which it has been imprisoned since birth. Both options are painful, but one option will allow us to find the happiness we have sought for most of our life.

Love always -- Jessica Rose

[REM.1126]

In my case, I don't sense that I was born female.  I am not non-binary, I like the binary and want to be in the female side.  But, I was born mixed. 

My neurology was and is feminine (according to the radiologist that looked at my CTScan).  He wouldn't believe the images were my brain, and kept insisting a mistake had been made because this was clearly a female patient's brain, and I was clearly not female.  When he finally became convinced it was me, he was embarrassed and literally ran down the hall, telling me I was ok and he left the room. 

But, anatomically I was born male.  I have a DSD.  My body doesn't produce some needed hormones for sexual development.  Without medication, my T levels are too low to be detected.  The lab ran them repeatedly, each technician thinking the others had messed up the test. 

My body is mixed.  My gender is feminine.  My neurology is feminine, my genitalia is masculine (ridiculously small, but masculine nonetheless).

Not that it matters, but I don't want to be mixed.  I want to be happy one way or the other.  I guess there is some non-binary person who would be delighted with my body. 

[Oldandcreaky]

Another well-told installment, Lori. Still estranged from your truck-driving brother?*

Thanks for sharing this:

"From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—"

So apt.



*Taking the Lord's name in vain means much more than Christians think. If I fail to complete a novel, I wrote in vain. If I secretly pine for someone, I love in vain. If a Christian beseeches God for divine intervention and Heaven is silent, that person asked in vain, WHICH happens countless times everyday. Applying my above average understanding of language, the Bible warns us to NOT ASK God for gifts in vain.

The etymology of vanity is "that which is vain, futile, or worthless."


So, don't treat God as a concierge, a gofer, or personal assistant. To do so is the veriest vanity.

[imallie]

Lori, wonderful post.

What struck me, probably because I'm at the phase of telling folks, is the idea of people being upset that we were lying and/or keeping this from them for years and/or decades.

I think of all the things people could be upset with me about, that is the one I am best equipped to handle. I can't speak for all of us, but I would think most would feel similarly - if I was lying to anyone for an extended period of time, it was to myself, first and foremost.

It was only when I finally started telling myself the truth, did I immediately start to get a handle on what the truth actually was, so I could share it with the important people in my life.

Years ago, every sentence would have been couched with "I think..." and "I hope not, but.." and every other sort of equivocation and naïveté.  That wouldn't have done anyone any good.

Again, thanks for being so thoughtful and open, and sharing your story.

Love,
Allie

[LoriDee]

@ Oldandcreaky

Yes, he has still not contacted me. I have heard through the rumor mill that he is being "openly unsupportive" for lack of a better term. I feel sorry for people who have such closed minds. They fail to learn things and then become prone to repeat their mistakes. If he comes around, I will accept any apology offered. If not... my life goes on.

[Oldandcreaky]

Yes, he has still not contacted me.

^This^ speaks to his character.

I will accept any apology offered.

^This^ speaks to your character.

[LoriDee]

Yesterday, I met with my new Gynecologist. I had been under the care of an Endocrinologist. When she retired from the VA they had no more Endocrinology Department. They transferred my care to a community (non-VA) provider. Now (2024) they have a new policy that all care will be handled within the VA if the services are available. They canceled my authorization to continue with the Endocrinologist and brought me in-house to the Women's Health Department.

I was pretty upset that they did this without asking me how I felt about it, or even bothering to tell me they were doing it. I found out when they scheduled the appointment.

Anyway... while I was being bounced around among Endocrinology departments, my new Gynecologist was on hiatus in Europe studying transgender medicine. She is now back and the VA brought me under her care. She is a wonderful woman. My appointment was scheduled for one hour since I was technically a new patient to her. We covered my history, issues I have had with various medicines (oral vs patches), other concerns I had, and what my goals were. She spent two hours with me.

One of the issues is electrolysis. No one in this area does it. My Dermatologist attempted laser hair removal, but my beard is gray. She told me I must have electrolysis. The Medical Chief of Staff agreed that it would be "medically necessary" for MtF transgender veterans. Over the past three years, I have begged them to find a way to send me wherever I need to go to get it done. They are the Federal Government. If the only place available is in Puerto Rico, then why am I not on a plane?

I also told her that about three years ago I asked about voice training. My Endo at that time contacted the Voice Therapist at Fort Meade VA and was told "No". I don't know if the therapist was not qualified, unwilling, or what. But the answer was still "no".

Today, I had an appointment with my Psychologist to show me how to use the Biofeedback machine as Stress Management training. It was a fun experience. I have never used any biofeedback device, so this was very interesting to me. And she enjoyed showing it off.

After the appointment, she told me that our LGBTQ++ Care Coordinator had found a way for me to get voice lessons. Apparently, it is a national program called GAFF?? Gender Affirming {something something}? So she is arranging Tele-Medicine appointments to get me started on that. She also said that she has been in contact with other LGBTQ++ Care Coordinators at other VA Medical Centers in our region. Some vets have been able to get beard removal and pre-op electrolysis, but there is some special way to get it approved. They have discovered the secret handshake needed and are working on it. They will let me know if they can get it approved for me. [Hallelujah!]

After two years of stasis, I am finally seeing action to help me move forward. I am very thankful.

[EllenW]

After two years of stasis, I am finally seeing action to help me move forward. I am very thankful.

Lori,
Very happy for you that you are able to start moving forward.

Ellen