I wasn't sure whether this is better in the Christianity forum, or here, but I decided here because there were a lot more issues than with just my religion... I'll totally understand if it gets moved though. And yes... its gonna take me a while to get to my point, I apologize in advance... but I feel like the whole story is critical to why I came out to my mom.
Edit: AIIIIII Writer's plague! I totally didn't realize it would be this long!! I'm sorry!
Okay, sooooo a few weeks ago, (yes I'm late in writing this, but oh well) I was trying (and failing) to clean my house. Physically I have a lot of limitations, and my apartment is not conducive to them. I get really frustrated though because my husband gets mad at me if I ask him to do certain things, and just end up giving up and doing them myself. (You know, that stereotypical, "I have to work all day, and you get to stay home all day and do nothing" mentality type thing. That completely frustrating mentality to any stay at home parent.)
On this particular day, the kids were acting up, as toddlers do, and I couldn't keep up with them. But I needed to make one of them food... (One is strictly tube fed, that's why its phrased like that) Unfortunately, as my seizures are not under control yet (though rare), and I'm alone most of the day, plus add on top of that anxiety, my neurologist doesn't want me doing simple things like cooking or taking a bath. Especially since my kids are non-verbal toddlers and can't call 911. SO I was going to heat something up in the microwave for the 4 yr old... BUT IT WAS DISGUSTING!
So I get the genius idea to clean out the microwave myself. Okay, microwave plate and the ring it sits on, easy enough I can take it out to clean. But the microwave itself poses two main problems. I'm not sure I can accurately describe how it is, but I'll try. Basically the upper cabinets in my kitchen, are really high up. But the center ones are cut shorter, and my microwave kinda hangs under them. Well the base of my microwave is right at the 5' mark. I'm a lovely 5'2". So I'm short as is, and can't even really see what I'm doing. So I spray it down with some generic cleaning detergent, and then start scrubbing with my little towel or whatever I'm using. Well cue second problem. I broke my shoulder about 10 years back and never had PT for it, so I can't physically raise my arm above a certain point. Of course, because of the height of the microwave, I have to try and push my arm past that point.... OH HOLY MOTHER OF MACARONI!!!!!!! (Sorry, there's no words in the English dictionary for that LOL) Enough said on that subject.
Okay so, get a stepstool you might say. Problem solved. Yeah, I did that. Except the only stepstool we have in the apartment (for some reason we've never thought to buy one that allows me to actually reach things...) is a folding step stool much like the one you'd buy for a kid who can't reach the bathroom sink but needs to wash his/her/their hands or brush teeth. So that's like what? An extra six inches or so? So I do this through endless misery, finish the microwave as best as I can. Heat up some food for the kid finally.
So then the next step, I go to do laundry. Okay, so the set up for the laundry closet (yes, it really is a closet) is even worse than the microwave... And of course all the detergent and calgon in my reach is EMPTY. By now, I'm pretty sure I'm using every four letter word in the English language I know to curse out Murphy. (I hate you Murphy) [WHY AM I LAUGHING SO HARD NOW AS I WRITE THIS?] Well to describe the laundry closet. The doors are broken thanks to violent 4 yr old tantrums (toddlers... right? Don't get me wrong, I love my kids to death, I promise). So in this closet are neatly nestled my washer and dryer, with heaven knows what fallen on either side because they are so neatly nestled in the center so you can't reach around the front walls to get whatever falls. (does that make sense?) Above the washing machine and dryer is a metal rack to be used as a shelving unit. Its about 3 or so feet above the machines. And then its only about a foot deep (and of course against the back wall) So of course even a giant of a human being would have trouble reaching the shelf, right? Without the machines there, it would be somewhere around what, 6 feet? But then of course you have to lean across the machines, so that adds what, another couple feet of reach? So I grab that tiny stepstool I mentioned previously, to try and get our extra detergent and calgon. Well of course, just to spite me the Calgon and detergent are on not only the back of the shelf but in the back corner! So buy now, I'm REALLY hating my shortness, right? All I want to do is get some clothes clean, why does it have to be so hard! So anyway, climb on to the dryer, and reach up with my hand under the metal rack to push them forward... And well they come forward all right... I barely managed not to have the giant thing of detergent fall on my head. So I get the first load started. Only to smell an all too familiar stench. At the time, my daughter was napping so the four year old was having 'quiet time' in his room. I open the door, to reveal.... A naked four year old once again painting with his poop. So I go through the usual routine of put the kid in the shower while I clean up his poop, yet again berating myself for forgetting to give him markers to draw on the walls with instead of using his poop.
Well, of course, you can't leave a toddler unsupervised in the shower or he gets into trouble... So while I'm trying to clean his poop for two minutes (obviously I pause to keep checking on him) he gets the brainy idea to not only find every toy in the bathroom and dump it into the tub, but from who knows where, he's found my stash of menstrual pads, opened the packages, and dumped them in the tub. And of course, he had to bring in four full rolls of toilet paper too.
And then... the two year old wakes up. By this point, as you probably can imagine, I'm barely holding it together... wondering why on earth there is only one of me? So I put on Arthur for the two year old, finish bathing the kid, cleaning up his bedroom, and just by now, I'm like, 'Screw it. Laundry is on hold.' Once all of this is done... I'm just like, 'I need a mom... My mom...' Which is odd because the relationship with my parents is still mending from being strained. (VEEEEEEEEEEERY long story) But she also understood my anxiety having raised me since I was 7.5. (I think I mentioned this a time or two, but I'm adopted. So generally if I say mom, I mean my adopted mom.)
So after texting her and asking if she had a moment to talk, I called her. Despite the fact this is pretty much the summary of an average day in my life, with some days interspersed with therapy and doctor appointments, shipping the 4yo off to preschool, getting mad at bus drivers for being idiots... etc, that particular day, it was just overwhelming. And then my dysphoria hit me harder than most days for some reason. It was one of those moments where anxiety just makes you think of EVERYTHING bad or stressful and you feel like you're being buried under a pile of boulders.
Okay... so now the 'coming out' part of the story.
So my family is very devout Mormon. Well most of them. My sister has 'fallen away' or 'gone inactive'. I've not been to church in years because of health ailments, special needs kids, and hubs' work schedule. But also going now that I'm accepting myself would at the very least be awkward. My parents however are temple workers, so they perform many of the things 'required for salvation' that take place in the temple. Sorry not sure exactly how to explain it. Perhaps there's others who are Mormon or have Mormon backgrounds that can explain what 'temple worker' means better than me.
My parents have frequently blamed my sister's inactivity on things like 'She didn't go to BYU' (religious university) or because she must have done something wrong to merit her first marriage failing... etc. As such, I grew up with immense pressure to be the perfect Mormon. I had to attend a Mormon university (like they wouldn't even let me apply for anywhere else, even if I could get a full scholarship there.) so that I wouldn't become like my sister. Dressing certain ways became the norm. My mother hated my flat out refusal to wear make up. Bought me the most feminine things she could find. Church was a must. And she always felt weird that some of my best friends were male. What if I 'fell off the wagon' with them?
I got married in the temple, which to some degree made my parents happy, though they never truly liked my husband.
But because of all this, my greatest fear was coming out to my parents. Plus, I was doing it over the phone. And it was rare up until recently that they didn't make me cry and hang up the phone upset. All of this made me start the conversation on the defensive. Literally one of the first things I said was, 'I'm seeing a therapist' so that she couldn't tell me to go back and see my old therapist that they had picked out for me. (I've mentioned in past posts about my feelings toward therapists) 'but I needed someone to talk to. A mom. My mom,' was the next thing I said. I started out with just all my usual stressors. The kids, the apartment, the husband, etc... But then, I had to pause for a moment, and I burst into tears. And I told her, 'But none of that is why I am seeing a therapist, though he is helping with that.' And I asked her not to be disappointed. Another pause. I then asked her if she knew what transgender meant, knowing that I'd never be able to explain what non-binary meant to her. She replied yes.
So her first questions were similar to my husbands. 'You got married in the temple though. To a man. So when did you know?' I've always known, but felt like I had to be female because being anything else was wrong. And then I elaborated, but now I also know there's a medical reason for the way I felt, and explained what PCOS is to her, figuring that was something she couldn't really argue with, and to ease her into it. So then she started asking questions like, 'So if you lower your testosterone, it'll fix your condition? If you take estrogen? Etc.' Which to be honest, it bothered me that she still saw my only solution was to in fact become female. I told her PCOS will never go away, but yes, if I wanted the masculine symptoms to go away or be lessened, that would help. But its deeper than that. I don't WANT the masculine side of me to go away. I've spent most of my life hiding it and its destroying me. I don't want [husband] to keep finding me on the floor crying because I'm not feminine. Give me all the female hormones I can safely take, and I still wouldn't feel right. I told her that I've always been more of a masculine type person. My best friends were male. I felt most comfortable being myself with the guys. The entire time she's known me, I've had an aversion to things that were considered traditionally female. So I told her that if I'm going to take hormones, I'd rather take testosterone. I've tried the female hormones, and I still felt the dysphoria...
I can't remember exactly how it transitioned (pun not intended) to me feeling lonely. Probably wasn't logical anyway, thanks to my anxiety. My mother then got into her more churchy mode at this point and told me that I needed to go to church. If I went to church I'd have friends. So I told her that I wouldn't. I wouldn't be accepted. And I'd have to choose a gender, and that gender would have to be female. So she tells me that I would be fine and everyone would accept and love me. And then subsequently says, 'There's nothing wrong with you. Its not like you're gay.'
. . . . . . <--- that was my response to that statement.
So then she goes into this story about how one of the church leaders has a gay brother who had been 'deep in the gay lifestyle with a partner and everything' but felt something was missing. So he went back to church. He doesn't deny his feelings but he doesn't live that way anymore. Now he has a calling in the Church, and goes to the temple, and holds the priesthood, etc... And he was accepted and has friends now.
As you might have guessed, this story did not sit well with me. And it proved my point that I'd have to give up on who I was to be accepted at Church. So I explained, that if I went to Church, to me its like admitting that the being that I know I am is wrong. I have to hide that being again. And to do that is, as I've proven, detrimental to my health. I can't keep living like that. Because... I'm not wrong.
So then she asked me if my husband knew. Well given that I don't drive, just from a therapy perspective alone, it suggests I would have to tell him. 'But does he know WHY you go to therapy?' Yes mom. I don't like hiding things from him, and its part of my struggle. SO she then determines that we need marriage counseling because if we don't go, bad things could happen like, abuse, the kids getting taken away, etc... Okay, I won't deny that marriage counseling can be a good thing, but she's wrong. My being trans isn't necessarily going to mean all those things. It changes the nature of my husband and I's relationship, but it doesn't automatically mean one of us or both of us will be destructive like that. So I just replied that hubs and I discussed it, and we have to take this one step at a time, and right now, that step is figuring out who I am. And that's why I'm attending therapy.
Conversation ends shortly thereafter, and I call my mother-in-law to come help me get over this harsh bout of anxiety...
But that's not the end of the story!
About an hour before my therapy appointment the next day, my mom texts me and asks what my condition is called. I assumed she meant my medical condition so I said, 'PCOS, but that is not my entire identity.' Or something like that. Don't have the texts right now to get the exact wording. But she then asked me 'Okay, what's your gender problem called. I'm trying to explain it to Dad.' SO I replied after cringing at reading the phrase 'gender problem', 'I am transgender. Transgender people are often diagnosed with a condition called Gender Dysphoria. But being transgender is NOT a problem' I don't remember the rest of the texts after that, but they were along similar lines. But that's what stood out to me.
So I go in to my therapy appointment and relate the story, the therapist, having heard tales of my parents as well, was shocked that I came out to my parents, but also helped me prepare what I would say to them the next day when the subject inevitably came up. Interestingly enough, it never did. Though they did ask if I wanted a blessing. I felt like I had to be respectful of their belief that it would help me make the right decision, so I said yes. But it definitely was awkward to say the least, even though even in the blessing my dad didn't mention the fact I was transgender.
So I guess... all in all, it could have been worse?
Hi Rowena
I haven't read your other post so I'm not sure that salutation is the one you prefer. Sorry if my guess is wrong.
WOW! That my dear is on heck of a story and one heck of a day. You definitely had one exasperating day full of challenges. I did enjoy your story telling ability though especially the "Wait! There's more!" aspect of it.
I think I agree with you the story belongs here where you put it I don't think you are asking for advice thought you would like comments. I think you just needed to share you frustrating day with us. And now you have!
Like your therapist says, be prepared for some fall out from coming out to your parents and try to remember this isn't an easy thing for them to grasp especially with their religious beliefs. It will take time and I hope it turns out well for you.
Thank you for sharing this bit of your life with us.
Hugs,
Laurie
Rowena is great to call me. I don't really care about the feminity (sp?) of the name, as it comes from a game/rp character of mine based off mostly my masculine identity. Plus, its a way to keep my real name out of public eye. ;) (Though to be fair, if/when I change my name, I'm probably sticking with a name pretty close to my birth name because I have a strong attachment to it. Deep meaning and such. And I am keeping my middle name despite it being distinctly female. Never really had a problem with names having specific genders to them... I'm more about their meaning if that makes sense.)
But yes... my days are always full of such adventures. Often, I'm able to laugh them off, (as I was doing while writing the post) like the time my well then 2 year old dumped his little sister's 40$ can of formula on the floor. (THANK HEAVENS we're usually overstocked on formula and I don't have to pay for it because of daughter's special needs) but that day just was... too much. (And of course as I'm writing this, my daughter decides its a good idea to unscrew one of the bolts on her feeding pole and show it to me....And of course to replace it requires the wrench to get it tightend again... but that's the one tool I can't find... I swear the day I know where everything is and my kids are angels is the day I'm going to wonder what dimension I'm in...)
And yeah, I always was a story teller, (and a poet, but that's a story for another time... that time pun intended) my nephews growing up always loved me reading/telling stories to them. Honestly, I think I get it from my dad. He tells great stories too. (Course his are usually fiction... unless its for work... Then he could put me to sleep with his stories. He's a liar... errr... lawyer for a living.) AAAAAAAAAAAAANYWAAAAAAAY back to the point.... (I get sidetracked way to easy hahaha. I can blame that on the anxiety too, right? ;) )
Yeah, I'm not holding my breath that this 'good' reaction will last. Between the fact my parents are 'Its my way or the highway' people and very religious, I wasn't even expecting the reaction they gave. My therapist told me to focus on just what I need them to know, what I felt was important for them to understand above all. We discussed it, and I decided that what I felt was most important that they know, is that I don't want them to pity or feel sorry that I'm 'going through this' but to instead realize that I haven't changed. I'm still the same person I know and love. Whenever they choose to talk with me about it, I guess that's what I'll say.
I guess if I did have questions, it would be more along the lines of:
What do I say to the 'Its not like you're gay' statement. (I don't identify as gay, true. But I'm not straight either even if I were female. I just love who I love. If I were to pick a label for my sexuality... it'd be queer.)
How do I get them to understand that making me more female won't help?
Or do I just leave it the way I've said.
Quote from: Rowena_Ellenweorc on September 02, 2017, 08:22:53 PM
I guess if I did have questions, it would be more along the lines of:
What do I say to the 'Its not like you're gay' statement. (I don't identify as gay, true. But I'm not straight either even if I were female. I just love who I love. If I were to pick a label for my sexuality... it'd be queer.)
How do I get them to understand that making me more female won't help?
Or do I just leave it the way I've said.
Hi again Rowena,
Kids can be a handful as they say, for sure. I understand about a special needs child because my daughter has one. Evanna, My 5th grand child, was born with spina bifida and hydrocephalus with clubbed feet with a few other issues. She is also tube fed. In spite of her problems she is a happy baby most of the time. Unfortunately I am not likely to see any of them again because of my being transgender.
I'm sorry that I cannot give answers to your questions. My track record with that sort of thing isn't very good.
Perhaps others here can give you some suggestions. Anyway Rowena, I'm glad you are here with us.
laurie