A Valentine's Card to my Claire

Claire,

This is the first Valentine's Day since you started living full time in your proper gender.

I look back on everything we've gone through and am amazed at so many things.

I am amazed at the depths to which I've seen you plunge into depression, and the highs I've seen you reach now that you are battling all those demons that plagued you all your life.

I am amazed at the openness with which my family received your news, and the embrace they've drawn you into since they learned they had a new daughter instead of a son.

I am amazed at how we've coped, and loved, and adapted, and grown into better people, both of us.

I am amazed at the physical changes brought on by hormone therapy. You're beautiful, and you really certainly don't look like the James I met 7 years ago.

I am amazed at how smooth a transition it was to uproot ourselves and move to Atlanta, and how friendly Atlanta is.

But mostly...

I am amazed at how strong our love is, and how simply overwhelming it is to me. I think of you always, in the back of my mind while I work, play, make jewelry, and even sleep. Random thoughts of you will filter into my head, and I can't suppress the little smile that makes me actually feel my eyes twinkle.

I love you with all my heart and soul. Will you be my Valentine?

Love,

Your Annie.

The meaning of a heavy heart

(I have so many half written posts, I'll get back to posting daily once this trip is over)

Tonight is the first night Claire and I have spent apart in a very long time. I am in Atlanta tonight preparing for interviews tomorrow. If I get the job I hope to get tomorrow morning, Claire will be able to transition now because I will be making enough for both of us to live on while she establishes herself in her new identity. I drove around and visited a couple of rental houses here, imagining Claire staying at home and playing housewife for a while as she decides and experiments with what she really would like to do for a career.

As I left the house today, I realized something. I am in my late 30s, and have been in a few relationships. I always enjoyed being sent out of town on business or for any reason at all so I could have some alone time. Honestly, when "James" was working nights, I hated it but kind of enjoyed the break from what could be a tense time due to "his" depression.

But today... oh today.

I went to leave and realized that the idea of driving across a state and spending the night without her just plain hurt. I've never felt this with anyone before. It was nice to realize that the sadness I felt on driving away was a true testament to how very strong our marriage is, but I felt tears well up as I drove off.

Six years of marriage. A few hundred miles. And my heart felt like it weighed 40 pounds in my chest as I hit the highway.

I remember reading when Linda McCartney died that she and Paul never spent a night apart. I used to wonder how they could do that and never *want* to spend at least a little time alone. I understand now. I have Claire's picture sitting in front of me while I study tonight, and oh how I understand.

And although tonight I share my bed with nothing but the little stuffed bear we named Charlotte that we bought years ago at Birmingham Zoo (something to occupy Claire's pillow, placed in my bag by her), I feel honored and blessed. For, although some people may look at my life and wonder "why does she stay while her 'husband' becomes a woman?" I know the truth. I have the brass ring. I have a love that transcends all I have ever dreamed possible.

Good night, my sweet, beautiful Claire. I miss you desperately and love you ferociously.

Annie

Of wolves and women...

When Claire and I first met, online, her nickname was Whitewolf. My nickname was Timberwolf. We've both had a lifelong love of wolves. Today, we went to a local animal sanctuary that has a small pack of timber wolves. Claire brought her spiffy new camera and we headed in to try to get some nice pictures.

Well, first we met a falconer, with a lovely female barred owl on his arm. As Claire snapped shots of the owl, she looked at Claire and launched into flight - right at her. Claire snapped the picture as the owl took flight. Quite a shot. It's a bit blurry but an amazing picture.

Then we hit the wolves. They were all at the back sleeping, and had been doing so for a while apparently, judging by the comments of the other people trying for a look. Well, in one of those "the universe is amazing" moments as Claire decided she would be left with just telephoto shots of sleeping wolves, everyone left. One wolf woke up, walked directly to us by the fence and posed in every way possible. Claire took some amazing photos of the wolf, and I'm looking at printing them up wall art size.

Now, I'm sure it was all just a coincidence that the wolf just decided to come pose for us, but I just have to wonder.

We walked over to the exhibit with two Florida panthers after that, and had an amazing time phtographing them. It was one of those peaceful moments. Nobody else was around, the elevated deck gave us a great view, the wind was blowing gently, the weather was gorgeous, and all the troubles of the world fell away.

All in all, we spent 2 hours at the sanctuary today, and had a wonderful time. It felt great to sign the guestbook as "Annie and Claire Rushden" as we left today.

The National Center for Lesbian Rights

The National Center for Lesbian Rights is assisting us with an issue right now. I have to say that this organization, like all the others I have dealt with so far in activist issues, is amazing.

I would deeply like to thank the LGB community for adding the T, and dragging the transgender crowd under their wings. There are so many groups out there fighting for equality that it amazes me. The part that really gets me is the fact that these groups like NCLR are just so welcoming to us as a T couple. They are really great people working on a lot of important cases right now, and if you haven't visited their website, you should.

For now, trans couples have a benefit that gay and lesbian relationships don't have, yet. They can marry, or stay married. If nothing changes, Claire and I can stay married after she fully transitions. While I am obviously very happy that the transition doesn't mean we have to divorce or annul our marriage, it brings with me an extra heavy weight that we have something our brothers and sisters don't have.

It makes me redouble my efforts as an activist. While obviously I care about issues that affect us, they pale in comparison to the stories of those kept out of hospital rooms while their partners lay injured or dying, unable to hold their hand, or worse yet, say goodbye. Who the hell is our government to tell us who should be recognized for basic things like car insurance, access to sick partners, or adoption? I have a friend that was separated from his partner because of immigration laws. It makes me angry to think that we the people only have the right to love who politicians deem suitable.

Georgia just stopped an attempt to ban adoptions for the LGBT community. Florida holds firm in refusing to let gay and lesbian couples adopt. They have thousands of children in foster homes or group homes, but God forbid that loving homosexual parents be allowed to offer a safe, loving and centered home for a child. We need more voices. It doesn't take much to join the activist alert lists, and even spending 5 minutes is a help when added up.

Please take a moment and get involved. You may not think it affects you, but odds are you have a family member or a friend that it does affect. And it's just the right thing to do.

Some other great groups:
Human Rights Campaign
Use Google to find your state's Equality group (example)
National Center for Transgender Equality
American Civil Liberties Union

From the ashes...

We're hitting anniversary #6 this Friday. When we first got married, I certainly never saw this as where we'd be right now.

It's quite funny to me how many times in our life together the Phoenix has presented itself. In volunteer issues, in work, in books we love. I don't recall ever having the image of a Phoenix embedded in my conscience before marrying my beloved, but now the symbol of rebirth through fire is everywhere I look.

I guess our marriage has gone through - and is staged to go through - a transformation not dissimilar to that of the Phoenix. I'm sure that we will face many things that will turn up the heat on us as we go through this change and emerge out the other side as a new dynamic.

I hear a lot of spouses lament the losses they have felt. I admit I have had a couple of moments, albeit fleeting. Typically, others report the big things: voice, looks, sex, name, status quo. Mine tend to center around silly stuff, like realizing that a pet nickname I used to call her is no longer appropriate, since it is based on the male name. Another one was picking up an old article of clothing that I thought looked cute in the old days and pausing for a moment before adding it to a pile for charity. I liken it to how I feel when I see something from Kiddo's childhood, and realize she's all grown up now and in the military.

What I find funny is that I experience these minor pangs even though you couldn't pay me enough to shove Claire back into that closet. James really was a miserable soul, argumentative and illogical at times and sometimes downright unreasonable. Yet that little spark of Claire would surface on a regular basis, and I would make contact with my soulmate, buried way down deep. I guess that this is probably one of the reasons that I feel so positive about transition.

Ever since I was 12, I have railed against society for pressuring people into hiding or making them feel inferior, and transgendered folk are definitely one o the groups still greatly suppressed right now. I hate that she lost so many years of her life in hiding, and that I couldn't see her shine from the beginning of our marriage. I look forward to watching her discover life as her true self, free from the skin of the wrong gender.

So, I guess what I am saying is that we stand on the brink of this anniversary seeing the flaming hoops behind us and ahead of us and we make our way through this transition. As I do so, I sense a kinship with the Phoenix. I do not mourn my marriage, or the loss of James. I cherish the rebirth of my marriage in this new dynamic, and I celebrate the emergence of my soulmate.

In case you're wondering - this is our anniversary present to each another: Soulmate rings from hrc.org. What better way than to celebrate this special anniversary than with a reaffirmation of our love as we are now as our true selves, while supporting such a good cause.

May you find love and happiness in your life,

Annie

Ch-ch-changes...

I am still receiving emails from the post I made on Howard Troxler's blog. I received one this morning that really touched me.

Jessie said "I know what it's like. I hid from my family for six years, and only when I started feeling suicidal did I realize that I couldn't run anymore, that I needed to transition. I'm nine months in, now, and I feel like I've been set free. The difference between who I am and who I was trying to be is like night and day, and I would imagine your S.O. either went or will go through a similar sense of liberation. It's like a huge weight being lifted."

I wanted to address this fully. I kind of summarized in my post on the Troxler blog, but it goes really deep. In my story below, I will refer to her as James for two reasons. One, because that's who she was to me at that point, and two, because there was so much pain involved that right now I just want to separate it out from who she is today. Although legally and to her employer, she is still "James", she is 100% Claire to me and to herself.

Claire was one of these people that survived her condition by putting up a self described "brick wall" around her heart. She suppressed her real self so deeply that she actually can't remember years of her life, due to walking around in robot mode. When you inject such a massive dose of Novocain into your soul, it really affects you.

We actually met online, both volunteering with a group that assisted law enforcement agencies hunt down online child predators and help people that were being cyber stalked. James and I spent countless hours chatting online as we worked talking to victims or gathering evidence. James mostly was advocating for women who were being stalked in real life by people they met online. I was mostly in the pits of the child porn peddlers, gathering information on their activities and putting reports together to send to their local law enforcement agencies. James and I both were able to survive this work mostly because of our abilities to shut down feelings.

James was in a different country. He was talking to me about always wanting to visit America, and a bunch of us here in the States finally encouraged him to come basically "backpack through America" by crashing with all of us for a few weeks each. At this point, we had started voice chatting while we worked our volunteer activities late in the night, and I considered him the best friend I'd ever had. We would talk for hours and never seemed to run out of things to say. I was becoming quite smitten with him as well. I quickly volunteered to be his first host. (Note here - we had known each other for a year and both had multiple clearances and background checks, this wasn't a normal meet a stranger off the Internet scenario).

My daughter and I met him at the airport. I saw this extremely tired, skinny "guy" depart the plane. We went over to pick up James from customs, and soon I was able to take him home with us. Well, let's just say that it was quickly confirmed that I was deeply in love with this wonderful best friend of mine. Let's also just say he never made it to the other host family stops. I kidnapped him :)

As we started to make a life together, I could always see the spark of the wonderful soul that was there, but I also saw other things that troubled me. I saw someone that would pass a mirror and refuse to look into it, or that when he did, would get depressed. I saw so much self-loathing that it hurt me badly. No matter what I said, no matter how much I made it clear that I loved him, it never made a dent. A deep sense of depression just always seemed to be there. Sometimes we would fight over illogical behavior that he would have, like being angry about something and wanting a solution that just wasn't there, like one issue over a used car we had purchased. I just chalked it up to not understanding how things worked over here as far as consumer rights were concerned, but in hindsight depression has a lot of ways it shows itself.

The depression really started to get to me. I started to ask him to please get help. A commercial for anti-depressants would come on and it would make me feel so helpless that I myself would cry. Nightmares started, with James being in a black pool of quicksand and me trying to hang on to his hand for dear life, with him slipping out of my grip and submerging before I would wake up in terror. My love never abated, but I honestly started to wonder if I could take it much longer if he didn't get help. I am part Buddhist. I have no exact religion except that I take bits of the philosophy from several religions and meld them. Unitarian churches have always fit me well. The part of Buddhism that I love is that you learn tools that give you the ability to cope with pain and depression, and I found that I could rebound quickly, but it was starting to get harder to keep myself and James up too.

Physically, the depression was manifesting itself as well. James had never been able to get a good night's sleep. Severe anxiety over doctors, dentists and needles would cause him to suffer in pain or misery because he just wouldn't go.

Well, when James approached me with the concept of dressing as a woman, I had no problem with it. I had a transgender roommate in college, so it was no big thing. It started small and then little revelation after revelation came out. Soon James was wearing a skirt in the evenings ("They are so comfortable") and stockings ("I just like them, don't know why"). He seemed more relaxed, less anxious about things.

Then, one night we were watching a show about women that lived with cross-dressing husbands. These husbands went the whole 9 yards, wig, makeup, a femme name, etc. My spouse I was cuddled up to while we watched was so obviously tense. I sat up, looked at "him" and asked him point blank if that was the level he needed to go to. I got a look I could only describe as a cornered animal look, fear and flight in his beautiful eyes. I could see this internal struggle to say yes and fear to do so plain as day. I assured him it was okay, really. A meek answer in the affirmative was returned and I remember saying "okay, we'll get some more stuff for you". Then I asked my poor petrified spouse if there was a name "he" identified with. He kind of shook his head. After the show, after some quiet reflection time while doing typical chore stuff my beloved came up to me and quietly said "Claire."

(note. I will now switch genders back to referring to her as Claire)

We sat down that night and went online to look at wigs. Claire found one she really liked but wasn't ready to venture out and try one on. There was a wig store down the street from my office, so I went and picked one up for her. That night, she spent some time dressing completely. She admitted she'd never had the opportunity to dress completely as she'd never had privacy where she lived in Britain. So we had a fun evening, working on makeup and hair. She looked in the mirror and said just said "Wow, this feels so right."

So we lived like that for a while. She would come home, take off her boy uniform, and switch to female stuff. She was happier, more relaxed, but it was obvious something was still deeply troubling her. Then, finally, she just broke down and admitted the whole story. I listened, slightly stunned at the level of suppression she had to do, but overall, I admit I was relieved. So much about her now made sense. She was so good with female victims because really, she was one. And suddenly, the light shone through the depression. She was dead inside because she tried to kill that part of herself for so long.

I never felt deceived. I don’t blame her for introducing this topic in steps to me either. I can’t imagine the fear that she felt upon trying to tell me. We started therapy. It was rough at first because the therapist seemed to have a hard time dealing with that fact that I was truly as okay with this as I purported to be. But we stuck through it and found a wonderful doctor here in town that has treated many transsexuals to handle hormones for her. She’s a lovely, warm, earth mother type of doctor. She’s a D.O., which I’ve always enjoyed using, and she’s delighting in Claire’s progress.

Just like Jessie's story at the beginning of this missive, I have to say that the difference in my partner is night and day. I have a happy, well adjusted partner now. She wakes up with a sparkle in her eye, a zest for life, and an anticipation approaching a kid at Christmas as she peeks down her shirt to see what progress has been made overnight. She sleeps soundly at night. Her anxieties are abating. She looks in the mirror with a sense of satisfaction with her body, even though she isn't "done" yet. She actually looked forward to Christmas for real for the first time ever this past year.

So when people ask me "How do you handle the changes in your transitioning spouse?", I have to say "With great joy."

Metta.

Fwd: Anatomy, old habits, and almost outing one's partner

My partner Claire is still deeply stealthed at work. We're hoping to hide from discovery (much like Steve/Susan Stanton) for a while longer while we pay off bills, let Claire finish hair removal, and get other things in place before what will surely be a job loss. It will also give Claire more time on hormones to allow for all the lovely things she wants to happen. One of those is breast growth.

Now, I have to say I'm enjoying watching her change and delighting in her daily routine of waking up and looking for progress. To be blunt, which this blog will be, I'm bisexual by nature so the changes don't bother me at all. It's rather a fascinating thing to be involved in, watching her body change. It appeals to the scientist in me, and hell, it's just cool that hormones can do what they do. So far it's been pretty good. She's almost a full size A after just a few months on hormones. She gets to wear a pretty loose fitting uniform, so right now it's not hard to hide it.

Unless your spouse, who works in the same organization, happens to momentarily forget and place her hand on your chest while turned away, absentmindedly sliding her hand up to your shoulder. Yup. It was one of *those* moments. I goofed and well, let's say I stopped before I reached her shoulder. Luckily we both moved away pretty casually into other positions. Panic mixed with a near irresistable urge to bust out in giggles is a very strange emotion. It is scary though, to realize just how easily I could give her away by accident.

One of the stressful things about having a spouse in transition is fear of their discovery. I admit, I do worry about Claire. I don't worry so much about bills, etc... I mean, yes, it will be hard if she loses her job prematurely, but I do believe in the adage that when one door closes, another opens. It's more of a worry about Claire getting hurt. So I do worry that I will accidentally expose her. Of course, her worry is for me and the grief I will get for being married to a trans partner.

Working in the same organization (different buildings across town from each other) we are connected all day because our jobs sometimes cross paths. At night she's Claire, in the daytime, she's James. So far I have been able to keep the two separated, but I do admit to fearing about accidentally addressing him as her, or saying Claire instead of James. Wrap your head around that concept. Sometimes I slip at home and absentmindedly say James or he, especially if we're talking about our day at work, because I do try so hard to think of her as him during the day. Luckily, she responds by being her normal understanding and kind self and torments me with teasing when I do goof up, which thankfully isn't often. She does have an incredible sense of humor by the way; we have a lot of fun. Truth be told though, I really hate it when I do that. Not because she expects me to be perfect, but because I know it must bother her on some level although she would never admit it.

So, going back to yesterday's accidental public grope. We carpool, and I love it. We have a long commute and it's great time to talk each other's ear off. We were chatting about techy stuff when we ran out of material. A silent pause of about 60 seconds and we both started laughing and started to say something about "the incident". She recounted it in her highly humorous way and had me laughing so hard I about cried. The standing joke between us is who is going to be the one that accidentally outs her by mistake, and right now we're leaning towards me at the moment after yesterday's action. We have established a code via IM though, just in case. Should she get a message from me in the line of "OMG, OOPS!" she should quietly slip out the back door and exit the building, because I just goofed big time.

New beginnings

My name is Annie. My husband's name is... Claire.

Let me explain.

After two awful marriages, I found my soulmate James. James was a wonderful person, but he had a horrible self-image and a deep depression that haunted him. I never knew what to do or how to help, until the day he took a deep breath, trusted me with his best guarded secret, and told me the truth.

James was transsexual. He was a woman. I shall now refer to her henceforth as such.

Suddenly, things started to make sense. Little quirks, comments, and actions suddenly started to fit into place. When she told me, it was as if a load of bricks was removed from her shoulders. The depression vanished and I was happy. I set out to learn all about transsexuality (gender identity disorder).

I was shocked. I was repulsed. But not from what you might think.

I learned that children are born with what amounts to crossed wiring - a brain that develops in one gender and genitals that develop in another and that they start suffering when they are as young as three. My heart broke. What shocked and repulsed me were the horror stories of little innocent children being shamed, chastised, beaten and told they were crazy by their parents.

I learned that people with this disorder learn different coping mechanisms to hide from society. They learn to keep their mouth shut and to try to quiet the voice inside that screamed in a deafening silence to please let them live a normal life. The Pink Floyd song Comfortably Numb comes to mind.

I talked to people that broke down in anguish and told their spouses, hoping that all the sacrifices they had made to protect their loved ones from the pain could finally be repaid with a shared burden and understanding, only to find themselves served with divorce papers.

It broke my heart again. I had no desire to divorce my spouse, and I initially experienced great contempt for people that would lash out at their spouse for something that was so utterly blameless. I'll go into my journey through this phase later.

We joined support groups. Over and over we saw stories of heartbreak, of pain. I almost felt bad posting messages because I felt we were so very lucky to have a marriage start to truly thrive simply because my partner told me her deep dark secret. I felt like telling of our happiness would just be salt in a wound.

But then something happened. Steve Stanton was fired in Largo, Florida because he is transsexual. I'm sure you've heard the story by now, but basically he had a well planned timeframe to go public, to inform his son and protect his family from the news that he wanted to have gender reassignment surgery and live as Susan. Unfortunately, either someone he trusted as a friend or a medical professional violated his trust and told the St. Pete Times. He was ambushed. Having no choice but to switch to damage control, he called a press conference and announced his news.

A firestorm erupted. You can read about it here if you haven't already:
St. Pete Times article

In the middle of all this, one columnist fought back against the venomous outbursts by the so-called righteous. You can read it here:
Troxler's Blog

I was so utterly crushed. My heart actually hurt, watching the video of the commissioners, and watching this poor woman just be ripped apart publicly. Pages and pages of support for Susan Stanton couldn't offset the sheer mass of outbursts by people hell bent on destroying what pride she had left. The ones that killed me were the people saying that they felt so bad for the child involved as they called his father a perverted freak that should be pitchforked to death. Just who's children do you think are going to torment that child?

After reading so many people compensating for ignorance by increasing the volume and the hate in their posts, I posted the following on the blog:

Okay, let me try to enlighten some people here.

Most transsexuals are told in early childhood that they must never tell anyone that they have this problem lest people consider them crazy or freaks. They grow up trying to suppress these very valid feelings their whole life.

Eventually (you know, being human and all) they come across someone that captures their heart and they fall in love. Do they tell that person and run them off, or decide to try to silence the internal conflict in the name of love, giving up their hope of a happy, well-adjusted life in deference to trying to put their soulmate's happiness first? Usually, it's the latter.

Very few transsexuals can live like this forever though. Eventually the depression and the silent self-loathing get so bad they affect every aspect of their life. They eventually have to face the music and realize that they cannot put their own happiness in a box and lock it away forever.

When that happens, they tell their spouse. Most wives do leave, some don't. Some support their spouse and delight in the fact that their spouse is finally starting a journey where they can be able to *live* for the first time ever. Some stay married and just best friends, some stay married and stay fully in love.

How do I know? I'm married to a man in transition to becoming a woman. Family therapy has exposed the amount of self sacrifice that was done by my soulmate, in order that our lives not be disrupted. My daughter, my family and I are thrilled to finally have this wonderful, giving, moral person in our lives finally start to take steps towards true happiness.

It is a birth defect. TS people suffer from early childhood and are shamed into telling themselves that they can keep their secret quiet their whole lives. It's not deceit, it is survival and trying to keep others they care about from suffering. Blame the very people who are calling Susan deceitful for forcing her to suffer all those years. It is precisely those voices that keep transsexual people from transitioning young enough to live a normal life out in the open.

Stanton's wife knew about Susan's issues. They were working together on it, much like my partner and I are. How dare you judge them for finally having the bravery to stand up and say they are working to fix a long standing problem.

Good luck to you and your family Susan, and I hope you reconsider your comment about suing the city if you are officially fired. If not for the monetary award, then at least for the ability to push the laws forward to keep this from happening to others, and use the money to move to a friendlier place.

I posted this while I was angry at the world. I wanted these people to see that not all families are scarred by a transsexual family member. I expected hate mail. What I received surprised me.

I received emails from transsexuals in all stages of their journey. A lot of them. The gist of most of the comments was that they too were transsexual and their spouse did not stand by them, that they really appreciated my post, and that it meant a lot to see that there really are people out there that can live with transsexuality. So I have decided to share our story here on this blog.

I hope that perhaps this story might help some people either understand this issue better so they might be able to realize that transsexuals are not evil, perverted or sinners, but just people suffering from a cruel yet correctable defect.

Perhaps a parent might find this, and understand their child, and not crush them in an attempt to make them fit an unattainable sense of normalcy in their parent's eyes, or allow them to transition young enough in life that they don't have to try to set forth in stealth, and suffer the devastation of a marriage when they can no longer pretend to be "ok".

Perhaps nobody will read this, but at least I have a place to vent against the injustice. At least I can feel like I am trying to do something, instead of sitting helpless while people like Susan Stanton exit rooms filled with lynch mobs, heads hung in despair, in cities that call themselves progressive.

For those of you that hurt out there, I feel your pain deeply. Please know that you are not alone.

Annie