Jan 4 98

Tomorrow is my name change appointment. Five days away will be my loan checks (if all goes well). So... by the end of this week I will need to really start sending out letters and such. This is a big step in the changing process, and, that cynic part wonders if I am going too fast. I don’t think so.

I am curious when the change occurs. I think of it as the argument ‘when does life begin’, where those keen on shit-stirring argue about abortion. My suggestion—all a fetus needs to become an adult is nourishment and time. So then, does all a TS need is hormones and time? Or rather is it just nourishment? That would mean I am a woman right now. Unfortunately, gender is related to sex. I wonder how the medical community reacted to the first notion the two might be separated? That must of been an odd combination with suffrage and women’s rights issues.

Jan 5 98

Well... I have just returned from the courthouse, and at some time this afternoon my name was legally changed. My middle name is a constant (and period). The judge told me later on that it would be better for me to keep my female name as non-attention-calling as possible until I wanted to call attention to my situation. I agree, so, the world slowed for a moment, and for a brief period of time the world held it’s breath. One pen-stroke from the judge and my legal foundation is forged.

I’d like to say that I feel some elation... or even some relief. But, I feel a sort of quiet sadness. I am sure that when all is said and done I will look upon today as a great landmark in my transition.

I wanted to write down what happened, so that I can remember this later on. I got to the courthouse at about fifteen minutes before my appointment. I greeted the secretary, who stumbled over my old name... a smile there... my old name. This is starting to grow on me a bit... anyhow, she trashed my old name, which I quickly kidded with her that ‘see, now that’s why I want to change my name... we both laughed, and I went to sit in the waiting area.

When it was my time, I got motioned into the Judges office. He had his arm in a sling, and was sitting there in a white under-shirt T-shirt, I sort of got the impression I had walked into his living room... the atmosphere was immensely casual. I went to shake his hand, and as I approached I asked him what I should do... I wanted to be formal. He waved me down and we talked very briefly about his arm... he was in some sort of accident.

When things got down to business, he said he was curious about my name... that was why he had asked me to come into see him as opposed to just signing off on things...

“Why do you want to change your name?”

“Well, for a number of reasons. The first is that I have never really liked my name... people can’t pronounce it, spell it, it just sort of lends itself to confusion.”

“Oh... well, so long as you are not trying to engage in fraud or something illegal, you can change your name to whatever you want... but I am curious, I guess the reason why I called you in is that I wanted to make sure this wasn’t a mistake... a misprint... it’s written here on the order as a woman’s name....”

“Yes, it is.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes. You see, as I said, there are a number of reasons why I want to change my name. One of them is this... when I was 19 I went to a doctor and said ‘I am a transsexual, can you help me?’.... the doctor said I should not rush into things, and so I spent three years dealing with issues from my father and such. I went back when I was 23 and said ‘I know that I am a transsexual, can you help me?’, and I was approved for hormones. I did them until I ran out of money, and was forced to stop. Well... a little while ago I decided to do as much as I could to get ready for the day when I do transition... three, five, ten years from now... many things hinge upon one’s name. I will be leaving college soon, and I’d like all of my documents to be in the right name.... diplomas, records, resumes... it would save time and effort down the road if things were done right now. My desired name is gender neutral, and is something I can live with until the time when I transition... so that’s why I wanted to change my name.”

“Well... I have no problems with that... it sounds as if you have thought things out and this is something you are determined to do. But I am concerned about your welfare right now, and for your future leading up to the time when you do transition. You see, what you ask for is a definite statement of your intentions. You don’t strike me as being the kind of person to be ‘in the face’ of the person you are with. You may wish to change your name to something less obvious, so that you can not give out more information than necessary. However, I will do as you wish in terms of the name change.”

I thought for a moment.... what the judge said was true. I am not ready for a trumpet blast pronouncing my situation to the world. I agreed with the Judge, and he called in the secretary. All I had to do was initial the change, and he would Order the name change. He told me that should I want to change the K. to Karen, I could do that whenever I wanted to. The judge shook my hand, and walked me out of his office. He said that he and his wife were part of a community out-reach team for people to ‘get to know themselves’.... and that they had no problems with people who chose ‘alternative lifestyles’. I thanked him again, and settled up with the secretary. The judge shook my hand again, and wished me luck. He said the order would go out today. So... I guess since it is after business hours the order must of been processed already.

Jan 12 98

With the return from Winter Break, I found that Teaching is a heavy burden. Even though my new apartment was settling out, I had so much more to do to be a teacher. What follows are some examples of what my life was like during what I consider to be the blackest times. Some of what follows is coarse, and at times what I consider a harbinger for my suicide attempt. But, I have preserved the content in it’s original form:

I feel so alone… I went walking out back to a big field. So... here I am in the barren field, thinking about how no man will have me since I am a woman on the inside, and man on the outside, and how no woman will have me for the same reason, and how I am not a gay man... and the bottom fell out. Add on top of that my current self-doubt about teaching, and my frustration trying to plan, and quickly I was falling into a valley of self-pity, and angry at the world, angry at God, and angry at myself. But, I was happy because I am doing my best, and trying to survive.

I left the field, and got in my mind that I was going to make a go at passive suicide. I know that I don’t have the ability to actively kill myself. However, if on the way home God decided to have a car swerve and hit me, that’s okay. I made it back to my apartment, and I left what might be considered my suicide note on my answering machine, grabbed the last two Spatens I had been saving since October, and went outside to wait for God. I went to a small clearing out back, and within an hour I drank both beers and cried only once. I was angry... and a tad bit sad.

Jan 15 98

I’d like to take this moment and give a quick thank-you to all the elements of my life that have kept me from planning. First, I would like to acknowledge the college of education and the grad program for giving me a crap load of assignments to complete before and during my internship. All this week you kept me on campus from 9am to 8pm, and I’d really like to thank you for tying up my free time. I’d like to thank my own GID feelings and the associated depression that keeps me sighing and saying ‘one day... keep on truck’n... your doing great’ as well as contemplating how I can be in a passive suicide while consoling myself to be happy with what I have. I’d like to thank the need to earn money, which makes me work at a not-so-shity-job while helping people who can’t find their driver’s licensee let alone work a computer. And, of course, the alarm clock that wakes me up... oh well.

On Monday I changed my driver’s license. On Wednesday I mailed out three letters to my Mom, Sister, and Grandmother (Mom’s mom), letting them know what was going on with me, and why I changed my name to Robin K, and that the K stands for Karen. And, letting them know that not only was I transsexual, but I plan to get SRS in ten years or sooner, all provided on when I can amass the money for such an operation.

I ponder. It is quiet. I am almost ready to start to work... to bring the culmination of nine years of college to a single document. No thesis... no dissertation... just a love of general science and a desire to earn the money I need to pay some doctor money to slice up my penis and make a pseudo clitoris out of it. Hopefully by then I have been taking estrogen and things look back to normal... breasts... no facial hair... a swimsuit line…

And so... as I am much calmer (and a bit tired from all the high emotion)... I have given you an idea of where I stand. I am not a madman... I am me. I am riding a wave thinking of where I want to go as the other waves crash down upon me with other things. This is usually when the phone rings,, or something else pops up. I am enjoying this silence. Silence.

Cold shivers in my back. Temperature falling. I will wear my favorite skirt.... is that female? It is a reminder of being female... or emulating female. What is female? Damn... not this again. I stop breathing. The world will grow dark, and my body will take over. I will regain consciousness if I pass out. Won’t I? I should.

I just want to sleep. I just want to sleep. Why plan for the children... why plan for the future. Why plan. Why. I refuse to ignore on this... I am tried of this... I need to find my anger. I need to get angry. I need to get mad. I need to get passionate about something and get up. I need to get out of this hole. I need to continue in my day. If I work now I can play later. I can play later. With whom?

I don’t want to work. *sigh* I want to die. I want to live as a woman. I want to die. Cutting off my penis won’t work. The rain won’t kill me. And neither will I. Get off my ass... get up. Move on. I guess so. Perhaps another day.

Okay… warning bells going off… did I deal with this? Perhaps. My phone calls home and to other people would get me reassurances… when nobody respects teachers, and you are aspiring to be one, people tell you that you should be feeling ill about things. My calls for help went unanswered… and at the time I was alone.

Jan 19 98

It is unique to be sitting here and imagining myself as a woman. It’s not hard in that I don’t feel as one. Certainly the itchy face and crumpled breasts don’t help... but just sometimes things feel so overwhelming. *yawn* I do find inner peace, however, knowing that things are going to the right place... in the right direction. I think sometimes I try to plan too much. I need time to myself. Time to get things done... feel some things out.... etc. But… when?

I spoke with my Mom yesterday. The only thing to come out of my letters home was that my Grandmother asked my mom if she had gotten a letter, which my Mom said she had. In all of the letters I said that the other two family members had gotten them. If anything, at least I have given them all something to talk about down there.

I have had the night to reflect upon the movie ‘Titanic’ from yesterday. It was a good movie. My heart was heavy... but I have not cried. I don’t want to sound melancholy, but I guess my own sadness and heartache outshadow any one else’s tales of woe. The kitty cat likes to get in my skirt and play. I wish it were a man... maybe oneday. I guess I am in fear of sounding too self-pity. I don’t want to put out the bad vibes. I look at my face in the mirror and see the woman there. I am her.

Ah... now that did it. I am starting to cry. Heh... my make-up will run. I am happy... it is not an unhappy cry. I have much to be thankful for. And, I must continue to remind myself that once I do get established, I can start HRT and get on my way... hmm, I guess I am getting on my way now... I am thinking and feeling my way along. One does not need the body of a woman to feel complete. I have everything that I need. Sometimes too much... heh... there’s nothing more ironic to be relaxed... well, here I am, in the most comfortable place in the world... in my living room... on the couch. There is a nice purring cat near by. There is a gentle rain that keeps things calm. I am a 25 year old woman, wearing my favorite skirt, and my favorite old T-shirt (it’s so old and stained it has a memory)... I am happy here. On my face is a light make-up, and within I am calm. This is nirvana, is it not? So what if I don’t have breasts? So what if my vagina is turned inside out? Just be content.

Jan 20 98

For the most part my teaching career really nose-dived. I’ve removed anything not related to GID stuff… but keep in mind that at this time I was teaching from 7a to 4p, then I had grad school from 5p-11p each night of the week. On top of that was lesson planning and writing papers for school. Trying to work in addition was risky. All in all, this was a tough situation and I hated every waking minute of it.

I had a good chat with my therapist yesterday. She seemed a bit more aggressive than usual... I guess asking me questions. She asked me what it was about a woman that I thought I wanted... what is it about being a woman that I don’t have right now. When she asked me, it was like everything deflated around me. I am taken back to that day back in 1993 where someone said I could no longer do my voices as a woman... I am at a loss.. and I am tired. I’ll have to think more on this later.

Jan 24 98

I try to do what I need to do, but it seems like I can’t stop crying. Every once in a while I get choked up over things... I guess having to wait to start HRT. There are times when I doubt my transsexuality. But... for a while today I was sad... I have read about several TS who have transitioned, and I wonder what the point of staying in college is, trying to get a degree in education when I don’t have any reason too... I mean if I am going to loose my job anyway.

As I have just mentioned, sometimes I wonder if I am TS. Or, that if I am TS, must I act upon it. My grandmother says no... I don’t have too. I have seen the pictures of the new women... when they start they look like men. I saw one of a guy who looked like ‘porky’ from Better Off Dead... when he transitioned, he lost about 150# and let his hair grow out. I mean we are talking two totally different people. I stop and wonder about myself. Did these people wear bras when they were pre-*? I don’t. A close friend speculates that I am in fact a butch lesbian, which I guess I can agree too. But, on the spectrum, I am sure I fit in somewhere. Where... I am sure.

Anyhow... I wonder what happened in their lives as they went on. What did they do when the tell-tale signs of transitioning pushed it’s way into other spheres of their lives.

Jan 28 98 - 4:30pm

I talked with my Mom a bit... she liked my sisterly love for my sister. It took me back. My mom said ‘sisterly’... my mom is thinking of me as a woman... wow!

My mom commented on it... saying that it was her way of being supportive, and that she had started to realize things about how she treats me... I guess she was saying that it will take time for things to happen, but that she is supportive of me... and that is nice. I’m doing okay.. I have my ups and downs. I was happy with my Mom and the Therapist... it was nice to feel so at peace. It is true that being called Karen puts me at peace. Hard to describe why or how... just that it does. Makes me feel that I can say ‘I am Karen’ and mean it. Not that the name, or getting slack from others helps... but it just feels good.

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