A Family Living Outside the Lines

When you find yourself in a room of people you might sit back and watch.  You might notice the clothes they are wearing.  You might listen to how they talk and what they are saying.  You might see certain people you would like to get to know and others you are sure you would have nothing in common with.  Most often, the situations you put yourself in where there are groups of people you do not know, you are comfortable even though you might be slightly uncomfortable because you subconsciously and mentally prepare yourself for what you might encounter in that situation, such as at a wedding.  You do not know who all you will meet or what might happen, but you prepare yourself for the encounters using the information you have.  And, most often, nothing strange or life-altering happens.  Most often it is a "normal" situation where people mingle superficially, you eat h'ordervs, listen to music and speeches and then you go home, having met a few new people but not necessarily anyone who will remain in your life.

Being the mother of a trans child offers the opportunity, if you allow it, of putting you (or "forcing" you) into situations where you might be around trans individuals other than your child.  It is a very unique situation - one that not many people will ever experience in their lives.  One you never saw yourself experiencing. It's sort of like going into a strip club - you might be very curious about what it would be like but you will never know unless you experience it.  It is not a place you would normally visit, but ... in some ways, putting yourself there might change how you see life.

There have been several occasions over the past 18 months where I found myself in a room or at a party I went to with Chris and Courtney where there were trans individuals.  I did not go to these gatherings necessarily always knowing there would be trans individuals there.  In recent months I have become more aware that the likelihood was high (I never asked), but early on I was sort of thrown into parties or gatherings where I was just there among them.  I've walked away from all of these occasions having had a great time and meeting some interesting, kind, fun and important people.  I've also walked away wondering how I felt about being among people and in a situation I never imagined I would ever be in.  What baffles me is that I have no real thoughts other than I had fun.  I have no thoughts of how odd it was, as one might expect.  I have no thoughts of ever being uncomfortable.  I have had moments where I was talking to someone who was trans and wondered how they looked before transitioning.  I've had moments of amazement where I momentarily inspected their faces or bodies and found myself intrigued and astonished by how "real" they look as a male (I have only met female to male trans individuals so far).  I've had moments when I wondered how hard it has been for all of them.  I've had moments where I wondered how hard it has been for all of their families. Beyond those moments there were hours of not thinking about it at all; just being there among them and enjoying the experience.  Beyond those moments there were times I realized that I was the outsider because I was still in the process of accepting them and their changes and their way of life, but I never felt as though anyone was judging me.  I give myself a lot of credit for fitting into a situation I never wanted to be in or wanted my child to be in, as somewhere in all of these moments I could have or maybe even should have felt out of place.  Somewhere in all of these moments I made myself fit into this world that scares me so much.

If you had asked me when I was 20 years old what I imagined my life would be like in the future, I would have said I wanted to be married and have children and pursue the things I love, like writing. If you had asked me if I thought I would have twins one day that would be gay and then one would experience gender dysphoria and become trans, I would have said no, as those ideas and obstacles did not fit into the image of the "perfect" world I saw for myself and the future of my children.  If I could go back and say things to my 20-year-old self, one of the things I would say is ... "There is no such thing as perfect.  And even if there was, it is not necessarily ideal.  Your life will not be as you expected, but you must continue to keep an open mind and an open heart because it will be those things that get you through those times when you think your world is falling apart - it will be those things that allow you to be at a party one day and meet amazing people you never would have met with a cold heart and closed mind.  It will be those things that remind you that you want your children happy, beyond anything else, and you will raise them to lead and not follow and they will be a reflection of you ... even if you can not truly comprehend the roads they travel.  It will be those things that allow you to be included and you will always want to be included in your children's lives."

If my life had been more "normal" I can't even imagine where we would all be.  If my twins were not gay but dating boys, instead, how would that fit into our world.  If Chris was not trans ... where would Chloe be now in her world.  I will never know what could have been, I only know what is, and one thing I know is that this family represents, in so many ways, the person I am.  In so many ways I follow a straight path, as it is the safest way to keep my life in order and going forward.  But ... I am and always have been one to stray off the path in search of excitement and new experiences I know were not available to me inside of any lines.  That is sort of how I see my family - a family outside of the lines.  The good thing about my family is that we are all out there together - traveling paths not everyone would choose or get to experience, but paths that are leading to happiness for some and teaching lessons to others.  Paths that teach you how to deal with pain at the most extreme levels and paths that offer you rays of sunshine from darkness.  

How ... can I not travel these paths?  Even when I wander in sadness and tears that spring out of nowhere, I find myself back on these paths with my children.  Even if these are not paths I have chosen for myself, I follow each of them toward some destiny that will lead all of us out of the lines and toward some future that I trust.  I trust it because I helped raised them and I trust that they will find a ground we can all stand on together ... 

I Am Breathing Again

Do you know how when someone has a phobia to something, like heights or flying or spiders? That person will avoid climbing up somewhere high or ever flying on an airplane or screaming and running every time they see a spider.  I have a fear of heights and so I avoid high places.  I use to have a fear of flying, but I still make myself get on to a plane because others are doing it without fear and also because it makes my life easier to fly instead of drive far distances.  I still scream and squirm away from large spiders.

It is sort of like that - experiencing a phobia - being the mother to a transgender child.  You constantly find yourself screaming and squirming away from the situation.  You still know that the situation exists across the room, but your fear pushes you away from it.  This happens, of course, after you have spent a period of time trying to squash the spider without success - after you have tried to negotiate with the spider without success.  This happens when you realize the spider is your biggest fear and you realize you can not confront it, nor can you dispose of it easily.

I was in New York recently helping my twins pack and prepare to move from New York to Austin, Texas.  I spent a week in their apartment and with them in the city.  It was on this trip that I was put into the position of living with Chris more than I had in a long time and more than I had since he had begun transitioning in March.  During the course of that week, I never cried about him being trans, even though I have cried many tears over the past months.  I seldom thought about it, honestly.  He looks a little different because of the testosterone he is taking - his voice is way deeper - his body is changing tremendously - his demeanor is shifting.  He is becoming more man than girl - the thing I have resisted and feared the most - losing the girl to the man.  He is becoming a different person, but not a person that scares me or someone I dislike.  In so many ways he is not changing at all, other than his appearance.  I don't think I really ever believed or understood that I could still see or relate to Chris if he was a different person.  I'm finding that I can and do.  I think my fears have convinced me that the monster of this situation is so much larger than it really is.  I'm not saying that transitioning isn't frightening to watch, and I continue to worry and wonder if it will bring Chris the complete happiness he deserves and longs for, but I am seeing how much more at ease Chris is with himself in his new, changing body and appearance.  I am seeing how it really does not change how I feel about him.  I am becoming more comfortable being near the situation and not running from it.

This is a big thing, as it is easy to run or avoid this thing that scares me so much.  It is easy to allow your head to be filled with the sadness and fears and anger.  It's easier, sometimes, to stand on the other side of the room and hope the spider crawls away, hope the thing causing you fear and pain goes away.  Chris now lives in Austin, only an hour away from me and not 1800 miles away.  I will be around him more now.  I will be more involved in his experience.  Maybe if he had lived here close all along, things would have been different for me - maybe I would have not gone through so many days of mourning - maybe I would have been forced to see beyond myself quicker.  Maybe it would have made things worse for me and Chris.  Maybe I would have fought harder and made things more difficult for everyone.  Maybe it was good we were not so close - not in the same room - maybe the distance gave me time to be alone with the madness that tried to control me.  I don't know. All I know is I am more at ease today than I was 7 or 8 months ago.  I still can't pick the spider up - the thing that frightens me so much - but I can respect it's existence and no longer feel the need to squash it.  I am no longer holding my breath.  I am breathing again ...

Chris' Light

Do you think that raving idiots realize they are raving idiots? I mean, even if you were just a little mad, don't you think you would know it, somehow?  I have honestly asked myself this question over the years at those times when I thought I might be going a little mad.  I have said to my children or husband or a friend, from time to time, "I'm not an idiot,"  Do you think idiots say that to people so as to convince people they are actually not idiots, or to convince themselves?

I sort of pride myself on the fact that I possess like ten-times the normal amount of common sense as the normal human being.  Not that I'm a genius or anything like that (I can't even spell genius without spell-check - haha!), but I have a methodical and analytical mind that tends to take a problem from the starting point and then I will work through scenarios or paths to a resolution by going backward and sideways and then forward a hundred ways and in the shortest amount of time possible to reach an end.  This works most of the time and usually results in a clear and precise answer for me. Since I have had years and years of honing this talent (or torture), finding the quickest and most accurate route and answer to problems is pretty easy.  But ... there are those times when the question is so big that it takes me a lot longer, but I remain on task, because, like some sort of first-generation computer, my mind will not give up until it finds the answer.  So, again, I ask the question --- Do you think that raving idiots realize they are raving idiots?

I don't believe I am an idiot, but I do believe I am stubborn in the strongest sense of the word.  This is a trait that guides me through many obstacles and also triumphs in my life.  It is also a trait that often gets me into trouble with other people.  Some people like to call this bull-headedness.  I like to call it perseverance, as it is merely a tool of my personality that I use to help me survive.  And isn't that really what we are all doing - trying our best to survive?

When it comes to Chris and his dysphoria and transgender issues, I am pretty stubborn when it comes to many things, and it is not because I want to be right or because I want to fight, it is because I am trying to guide my way through a very crooked path toward some end.  Every day I feel myself growing closer and closer to an end.  Not the end of Chris' journey or of mine, where he is concerned, but an end to the questions and concerns.  It's not that I feel the questions and concerns are ceasing or becoming resolved, so much, as I can feel myself reaching some point of letting go of those things I can not control or handle.  My father, who was an Army officer, retired General, once told me, "People will rise to their level of incompetence."  That is sort of what this feels like - like I am rising up and up and up until I can rise no more.  And when I reach that ceiling then I will plateau on a plane of peace.  I know this because ... I am no longer spinning out of control or downward, as I once was, and so, this is a good thing.  I know I will never have all the answers I search for, nor will I ever be completely at peace, but I also know that I am reaching a point of not needing either and that is huge in my own survival of this journey.

There have been times when I thought I might go mad, seriously.  When I cried so hard or for so long that I was sure despair would quietly drown me in some dark, helpless place.  It was, and is, my love for Chris that pulled me out of despair, each and every time.  It was my fear and hope of his survival that reminded me that I could not go mad.  I am not present in Chris' day to day struggles and experiences through his transitioning, nor do I participate 100%, but I am here and supportive.  I have not walked away.  Some might say that was never an option, but, truth be told, it is, and it is an option parents do take when dealing with their older transgender children.  It is an option I considered, more than once.  If you evaluate all paths and scenarios, backwards and sideways and forward toward a resolution, then you can not do that without finding yourself contemplating this option.  Like I said, it is my intense love for Chris that kept me from walking away.

I think anyone reading this might question a mother who would consider walking away from her child who was and is struggling with dysphoria or who is transgender.  I can't speak for any other mothers, nor would I try.  I can only speak for myself.  This situation has tested every single part of me emotionally and mentally, and it's not just due to Chris' issues, but issues that have nothing to do with Chris but were going on in my life simultaneously to finding out that Chris is transgender.   And so, yes, there were times when my fears of actually going mad pushed me to the point of considering avenues I might take to protect my own sanity and survival.  Thankfully, somewhere and somehow, over the course of many months, I began to rise instead of fall, and was able to see that, with Chris and me, my walking away was not an option at all.

Do you know that quote, "It's not the amount of breaths you take.  It's the amount of moments that take your breath away"?  When Chloe was born she was a brilliant light in my life and every day I had with her she took my breath away.  When I am with Chris now, in his presence or talking on the phone with him, I still feel that same light and I he continues to steal my breath away.

This is not an easy road, but I am stubborn and sometimes very selfish and it is those traits that are helping me rise up every day above tears and fears to that place where all I care about is feeling Chris' light ...

Caught Between Two Worlds

Facebook is more to my life than I, or anyone like me who is entrenched in it, care to admit.  I am not going to delve into the good and bad aspects of Facebook - I only bring it up because there was an incident this summer that relates to my story.  Through the course of my posting several posts on Facebook about my daughter, Chloe, coming out as transgender, a particular Facebook friend reached out to me in a private message one night.  I completely believe that her words and intentions were out of concern for me, as we had been (internet) friends for several years through blogging before Facebook, but when she messaged me that she believed I should strongly consider therapy, I immediately became immensely offended, deleted and blocked her from my Facebook account and from my life.  Before deleting and blocking her, I responded to her private message with, "I don't need therapy."  She responded, "If you say so."

I do not have anything against therapy.  I am not necessarily opposed to therapy for myself.  I could probably use some therapy. The thing is ... the moment someone said to me, "You might benefit from therapy," I went on the defensive.  I think what it said to me was ... you are failing at surviving if it is evident to anyone else that you seem shattered.  Maybe that is not how I seemed at all to this person.  Maybe my pain was so evident that it caused others pain.  Maybe it was merely concern on her part.  All I know is I immediately posted a response on Facebook that read:

I deleted/blocked someone recently on fB that sent me a private message wherein she was saying that I needed therapy.  I don't need therapy.  The amount of years it would take for me to formulate to a stranger my sadness is too many.  I am happy smiling through each and every one of my tears.  I am even more relieved when I see my smiling face on the other side.  One day I imagine I will stand in front of God and I imagine He will say to me, "Yours was nowhere near as hard a test as it could have been, but you had a joyful spirit and a great smile through it all.  Come sit close to me."

I have weathered many storms over the past several years, but encountered few that test my perseverance as much as the storm I am in right now.  I know I fail at surviving, sometimes, as I have had a very difficult time dealing with the sorrow.  But ... as each day passes, I grow stronger, even through all of my weak moments and tears.  My fear of therapy is that someone will find a way to lead me out of the darkness without helping me learn what I need to learn from dwelling in the shadows.  I have a strong belief that I am meant to live in this darkness so that I will be forced to survive on a level I do not want to, but need to.

Once, I tried to quit smoking and I remember a friend of mine telling me, "One of the most difficult things in life is denying ourselves something we truly do not want to deny ourselves of."  And this is the darkness I have been dwelling in - a place I convince myself is sometimes inescapable, but also a place I refuse to sometimes leave because if I leave it and move into some semblance of light then maybe she will not follow me.

I am not ready to let her go.  That is just the truth of it.  I do not believe I ever will be.  I believe I will learn to adapt, as I am doing, but I do not believe I will ever allow her to die.  And so ... in my mind ... I am trying to find a way to have both worlds, even though it is not possible or reasonable.  But my mind and heart fight for this daily.  I fight the mother inside of me every single day.  The one who knows what she must do to protect her child - the one who knows what she must do to protect herself. It is an impossible battle I might never win.

Deleting and blocking this individual on Facebook might seem extreme, especially when it is evident on so many levels that her suggestion or opinion was warranted and most likely and simply presented out of concern for me.  It was not the first time she had broached this subject, so there is that.  But I think my blocking her - eliminating her from my life - was my way of saying ... leave me be. Nobody knows my struggles.  Nobody knows the millions of thoughts I have shuffled through over the months and years that have brought me to this place where I am so much stronger than I ever thought I could be.  Do not dismiss my courage and strength by suggesting that I can not and am not successfully weathering this battle inside of my own mind - inside of my own world.  And unless you have lived this thing then you can not even imagine what it has taken me to get from there to here - through so much darkness and sadness.  Do not dismiss what I have already done ...

Two Roads Diverged in the Wood

I will not and can not speak for Chris about anything having to do with his personal experiences with dysphoria or transitioning from female to male.  I only attempt to put into words my thoughts and feelings about things that happen, my struggle through it all, my wishes, hopes and beliefs.  I do not wish to battle with anyone, especially Chris, over the things I feel or believe, I only ask that people allow me my thoughts, opinions and feelings as I work my way through this process.  I have come a long way, on many levels, from December of last year, and many of the things I write about here and will write about in my book are about thoughts or beliefs that I might have had months ago.  This is a journal, of sorts.

For years, Chloe and Courtney (identical twins) wore their hair long.  One day while in college, Chloe cut her hair to her shoulders.  I don't know if it was, at the time, a way of differentiating herself from Courtney, but it did do that and people liked her new, shorter hair.  Then, there came a day a while later, when Chloe cut her hair really short - more boy-like and began to wear it in different short styles.  She drew even more attention and it was obvious to me that it was helping to build her self confidence and it served to help define Courtney and Chloe as complete and separate individuals.

When I look back on this - the cutting of the hair - I see it as the outwardly beginning to Chris' transition from male to female.  While there were struggles going on inside of Chris that I was unaware of probably long before these changes, if I had to pin-point when things truly began to change, I would say it was when Chloe cut her hair.

Over the course of time after that I have come to learn that Chloe began to research information about dysphoria and transgender and came across a video that was a catalyst that would push her more and more toward changing her life.  Chloe began to become more involved on Tumblr and found transgender individuals and communities who embraced her and supported and understood the feelings she had been experiencing - she found a home with people she could identify with and whom she learned from.

I had watched how entrenched Chloe became with Tumblr and the transgender community (this was before she came out to me in December, 2014 that she was transgender) and worried about it.  My worry was that I had seen, over the course of a few years while she was in college, how her self-esteem seemed to be fragile and how she seemed to be striving to be different (than she was) and how she had bouts of anger and anxiety and depression - so when she began to gain an on-going, growing "fame" on Tumblr (and I only knew about this through others, as I was not on Tumblr) and was feeling the positive affects so much attention can give you, I wondered and worried if it was the abundance of attention from so many people on Tumblr that was feeding her desire to change herself.  She was in a world none of us were intimately aware of.  She was so different now than her twin sister, Courtney.  She was writing poetry and through her writing and her new looks, she was (and continues) gaining a following like she had never experienced before.  I wondered - I still do - if all of that attention and encouragement on Tumblr pulled her.

Looking at it now - seeing how confident and happy the changes Chris has made since going on testosterone and changing his name, I am conflicted about my thoughts.  I see so much positive in Chris since he came out as transgender, but he is only twenty-three years old and he is only in the beginning stages of transition.  He told me recently that he is not changing his gender; he says, "I identify as that gender so nothing is changing.  I'm aligning my outside to match my inside.  I've always been a boy, even before I knew it."  Maybe this is true.  I'm not a biologist or scientist or whoever it is that determines these things.  All I know is I gave birth to identical twin girls and one of them is now transgender.  I can sort of understand the thought process of saying, "I identify as a boy" - but to say, "I was always a boy," triggers a thousand questions that no one truly has the answer to - especially not me where my child is concerned.

Sometimes I think to myself, "What is the big deal?  Let it be.  So, he is a boy and not a girl - he is still your child and your love for him has not changed.  Why do you struggle so with this?  Let it go."

If you make a choice in life or a change or a decision or alter something - especially drastically - there will be results and consequences.  Because my mind does and always has worked in an analytical way (I fricken analyze EVERYTHING!), I analyze this.  I wish I could let my fears go, but logic tells me not to be stupid because this is my child.  If we, as parents, threw our hands up and just let things go that our children did that we worried about or did not agree with, we would give up on most every issue.  I believe it is not only my job to work through the fears and worries (even if it is only in my own head) but, also, why wouldn't I?  I fear the choice is wrong - even if one day I might conclude it is right.  It is not my choice to make, so I keep my fears and worries and opinions mostly to myself, but it does not dismiss them.

Chris is twenty-three years old.  Maybe it is not until you reach 1/2 a century old that you truly realize how young that is.  In addition to all the obvious and stated struggles I have with Chris' transition and identifying as transgender, maybe my greatest fear is that this will not be the answer that makes him finally and truly happy.  I really hope it is - because that is all I really want and why I continue to try to understand and embrace this difficult journey my child is on ...

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Three Beating Hearts

I will write many times about Chris being an identical twin.  Honestly, I don't know how to ever forget this thing I feel so in love with, and feel is and has been so much a part of his and his sister's identity.  If someone were to ask me what I believed was one of the greatest gifts ever given to me, it would be my twins.  If someone were to ask me what I believed was one of the greatest gifts ever given to Chris (and Courtney), it would be his twin.  From the moment they were born - the rarest type of identical twins - mono-amniotic twins - one egg that splits and the babies share the same amniotic sac and are able to touch each other in the womb, and they share the same placenta - a type of twins where the mortality rate is extremely high for one or both twins because of these reasons - I knew they were special. When my doctor delivered them by C-section a month early, he found that they tied their umbilical cords in a knot and announced to my husband and I that when they got to be 18 that we should take them to Vegas, because they were lucky babies.  After delivering the placenta, he found that one of the umbilical cords had detached from the placenta and was attached by just a few blood vessels.

I didn't know they were mono-amniotic twins for a while after their birth.  I didn't even know, for sure, they were identical; while they looked very much alike.  It was (and remains, I'm sure) the procedure, at the time, to send off the tissues and placenta from the birth to a lab to determine the type of twins and then the results were given to us about a month after their birth.  It wasn't that they were mono-amniotic or identical twins that made me believe they were so special.  I believe all twins are special; lucky.  To come into the world with another person is a unique and grace-filled beginning.  As so, it was my belief that nurturing their twin-ship was, not only, a huge responsibility, but a privilege.  My husband and I did our best to always nurture the bond they were born with and prayed and hoped they would grow to realize how lucky they were to have the other and always love each other immensely.  If there was anything we did right, with regard to Chris and Courtney, it was this, as they were and still remain very close - are the best of friends and each other's closest companion.

When my son was little, around three-years-old, he often would say to me, "Momma, where are The Courtney's?" as he could not tell his sisters apart.  It was cute then and funny now, but, in some ways, it represents so many mistakes we all made.  Looking back on all of it now, I know I put their twinship above their individual identities, and because I did that, many other people did, as well.  It was not intentional on my part, at all, as I had no idea what I was doing; raising kids/raising babies. Now I know what a fine line it is - the nurturing of an individual in a twin relationship.  I wish I knew then what I know now, as, I don't care what anyone says, logic tells me that, while being a twin to Courtney is one of Chris' greatest gifts, it was also possibly his greatest nemesis, because somewhere in his childhood he lost his identity and logic tells me that it is impossible to dismiss that that might have occurred because he was/is an identical twin.  Or, maybe, it was me who was really Chris' greatest nemesis.

Reading this, some might think I am searching for a place to place blame for Chris being transgender. It is not my intent to define this situation as one where there is "blame" to be placed - it is only my intent to document the thoughts and internal analysis I have had regarding Chris' dysphoria.  I am not blaming anything or anyone, but I totally believe that if a person finds themselves struggling with certain issues, such as anorexia, for example, it is very possible that external and environmental (as well as, in some cases, biological predisposition) experiences can and might influence an individual's insecurities and beliefs about themselves in a negative way.  Do I want to know where and when and how and why this has happened to Chris?  Absolutely.  Will I ever completely understand or conclude anything that answers all of these questions?  Not likely.  Chris is transgender.  I am coming to accept that as the new road we are on with him to make his life whole and complete.  But it does not keep me from wondering and asking questions.

When I was pregnant with Chloe and Courtney I would go into the doctor for examinations and monitoring, as all pregnant women do.  The doctor would check many things, including my heart beat.  And then he would search for and find the heart beats of two growing babies in my womb.  I was always so relieved when he found those heart beats, as it meant they were surviving inside of me. When they were born and I brought them home - so tiny and fragile - I kept them in a crib close to our bed at nights for many months so I could hear them easily and get up, from time to time, to check to make sure they were still breathing.  I was always relieved that I could feel their breaths and the hearts beating inside of their tiny chests, as it meant I was doing the right things to keep them alive. Somewhere along the line I think I lost track of their hearts because, now I know, I always saw them as mine - one of my greatest gifts from God and one of my greatest gifts to the world - and did not see them as two separate people apart from me and my selfish desires.

I have often said that they (and all of my children) are my heart. In so many ways, they are, but through this journey with Chris I am becoming so very aware I was not in tune at all with Chris' heart, because somewhere along the way, unbeknownst to me, it became broken ...

Paths Not Taken

My children and I are very close, I would say.  I quit working when I was three months pregnant with my twins (nearly 24 years ago) and haven't worked outside of the home since, so being a stay-at-home mom has allowed me to spend a lot of time with my children.  Because my twins are the oldest, I have spent the most time with them and as the years have gone by we have become good friends, as well as family.  So, it seems odd and sad to me that I was so unaware of the identity confusion/dysphoria Chloe apparently began to seriously experience in and after high school.  I figure it is because she and Courtney were away at college for most of that time, but it saddens me that something in my and Chloe's relationship did not allow her to come to me for earlier help or conversations.

The first I learned of the possibility that there was something really "wrong" was when I took the twins to Las Vegas for their 21st Birthday in April 2013.  Chloe stood in front of me in the hotel room, in a pair of slacks, a button-down shirt and a tie, and said to me that she did not identify with being a girl.  I had seen how Chloe was more and more trying to look like a boy, in the clothes she wore and how she wore her hair, but, to me, when I was around her, she was still the same Chloe as I always knew, so it didn't matter to me the clothes she wore or how she wore her hair.  Honestly, I'm not naive or blind, but I just thought that was part of being gay.  And there were so many times when I would be with her - with her boy clothes and boy hair - even in Vegas - and someone would give her a weird look when she went into the Ladies restroom or a waitress would refer to her as "sir" and I would see her become outwardly aggravated with people, not necessarily correcting them, but often mumbling things like, "Yes, I'm a girl," or coming out of the restroom sort of angry that people would question that she was a girl.  This happened often, and sort of affirmed to me that if she was defending being a girl, then she must still be a girl.  What was really going on, probably, was her frustration of not having a place to actually fit in.  I know this now.  Anyway, there was very little conversation in the hotel room in Vegas that day, but I remember saying, "I will always love you, no matter what."

After that day in Vegas there was silence between Chloe and I on this subject for nearly 2 years.  I can remember asking Courtney, from time to time, if Chloe was okay - if she knew if Chloe was still struggling with her identity issues?  In retrospect, I should have asked Chloe, but I never saw or heard anything that led me to believe she needed my help, except when she got to her last year of college she suggested to me that maybe she needed counseling.  We talked about it a few times and I said I'd help her find someone, but she never pursued it further and so neither did I.  I didn't know all the things she felt she needed counseling for, but I knew she had stress of college and a bad break-up with a girlfriend and other personal/friend issues and I sort of concluded that these were the reasons she wanted counseling - to help her feel more at ease and not so frantic all the time.   Now I know that the true issue was her dysphoria.

She never talked to me about her dysphoria.  I think she was afraid.  I think she was afraid of what she was feeling and also afraid of disappointing me in any way.  I think she was afraid to talk too much about this, because, really, how do you talk about this to your parents?  How do you talk about this to anyone, easily?

Chloe and Courtney moved to New York in July of 2014.  It was about September that Chloe said to me that she needed therapy for her dysphoria and anxiety.  I got on the internet that very day and researched for therapist in New York.  I found many that specialized in transgender and gay issues.  I narrowed my search down to about five, emailed them and then gave Chloe the list to call 3 or 4 I thought she should talk to.  She did; met with 2 of them and ultimately chose a therapist she has been seeing ever since.  I don't know what they talk about, but in January of this year, Chloe became Chris and began taking testosterone in March as the beginning steps toward transitioning.

I don't know if I could have done or said anything 2 or 3 years ago that would have helped, would have changed anything, would have altered the course of where Chris is today ... but I am certain that we should have talked.  Maybe Chris didn't want to hear what I had to say - maybe I didn't want to hear what he had to say - but we both should have talked to each other.  It's the main reason that this has all been so hard on me - because it sort of hit me and my husband blind-sided.  People probably would say that we should have seen this coming, but who could see this coming?  I think Chris drew into himself and kept people as far away as he could because the struggle was so real and frightening for him, he knew if he brought other people's feelings and fears into it that it would be almost impossible to survive.  If I had had 2 or 3 years to walk this path with Chris, I might understand some things better today.

I wish we had talked, because now he wants and needs me to talk about the excitement and the experience of his transition and, too often, I can't.  I'm trying and it is becoming easier, but it has not happened over night.   He has climbed this mountain nearly all on his own, reached the peak and is beginning to descend down the other side.  I am navigating a winding path up behind him, trying to keep up and constantly glancing in the rear-view mirror trying to figure out what went wrong ...

Waves and Touchstones

"If you had to give up everything and live on a boat for the rest of your life, who are your must haves?  Who could you not live without?"

I heard this in a movie I watched tonight and it made me think about all the people I would want to have with me.  My boat would be really full - it would have to be a yacht.  But if I had to choose only 5 people, I would choose my children and my husband.  I could live the rest of my life with only these 5 people offering companionship, as they are not only the most important people in my life, but they are all some of the most amazing.

My husband is the kindest, most patient person I have ever known. I have often said to people that he is the best person I have ever met, and it's the truth.  My son is very much like his father.  My youngest daughter is a mixture of all of us and so full of life and truths and happiness.  My twins ... they are my greatest accomplishment in life, so far, and are my oldest children, so they are more grown and have become two of the most amazing people I have ever known.

In recent weeks there has been a bit of turmoil between Chris and I over the stories I am posting on this blog.  I am not going to go into details, I am only going to say that I understand his frustration. He is reading things I have written about thoughts I have had regarding his transition so far, reading about beliefs I have that I have never really spoke openly about or forced on him or anyone.  He is reading and feeling as though I am writing blindly about some things regarding transgender individuals and his journey, as he and I have had very few discussions about the turmoil he has experienced with the dysphoria and now with the process of transitioning, nor have we discussed in any length about what it really means to be transgender.

He has a right to feel frustrated, as so much of what I am writing is about things nobody really knows, as I have kept so much of it inside of me.  And with regard to his feelings that I am out of touch with his struggles and his experiences, he is right. Because he lives in New York, it is difficult to be intimately involved in the day-to-day ups and down, but it also makes it easy for me not to be when it makes me uncomfortable. And ... it has made me uncomfortable from the beginning.  So much so, that I had moments where I pulled away so far and with such anxiety that my daughter, Courtney, would seek me out to reign me back in - impressing that I could not abandon Chris just because I was uncomfortable or filled with sadness.  She would scold me and then rally me - remind me of where my priorities were - with Chris.  Even if I had to push away all my own anxieties to help and protect him.  I thought I was doing that when I openly stated and physically committed myself to supporting him.  What I wasn't and haven't done, however, was talk to him openly about much of his history or present experience.

Because Chris kept so much of his dysphoria secret from me (and others) for so long and it wasn't until in the last year that he had reached a point of "awakening"; finally knowing what he needed to do to make his life better (transitioning), and because he had created a support system around himself with friends, his twin sister, a therapist, other trans individuals, doctors ... I think I believed he was and is functioning okay without and in spite of me.  I honestly don't know the reasons he never reached out to me, but because he didn't, often, I believed he was fine.  I am coming to realize that this child is very much more like me than I realized - someone who seldom asks for help from anyone.  It does not mean he did not need my help or need it now.  I always sort of believed, and still do, that I am my children's touchstone in many ways.  I am not always an accurate compass, and thank goodness they don't rely solely on me for direction, but I think they have always counted on me to be that one person in their lives who is a constant and who is their beacon.  Through this journey Chris has been on, I have failed to be his constant beacon - not intentionally, but sadly, it is true. Because I have 2 other children at home, a husband and home and responsibilities in my life, and because Chris has lived away from home for several years, I allowed those things to completely distract me from seeing all that was and is going on with Chris.

Aside from the journey I am on with Chris, I have had many other things going on in my life, as well. A son who just graduated high school and who I am trying to help find his way in this world.  A 30 year marriage that has been tested in the past few years, but my husband and I are working hard on that.  A younger daughter who is starting high school this year and has her own struggles.  The issues in my life that are peripheral to my journey with Chris have and do play into the anxiety and emotional stress I have and do experience with regard to how I have and continue to handle Chris' struggles and the path he is on.  I have not been my strongest self in a long time, but I have done my best to pull myself up out of the darkness that so often has tried to envelop me, to be there for Chris. It hasn't been enough, but every day I am growing stronger because, in my heart, I know how important I am to Chris (and he is to me) and I know that I would be one of the people Chris would want and need on his boat.

I am only at the beginning of this new journey, and I don't know everything I should know, nor do everything I should do, but I hope Chris bears with me a while longer because he may not know it, but he is one of my touchstones and I am fighting every damn wave to find my way back to him ...

The Night I Took All the Pictures Down ...

It was earlier in the summer when Chris had come from New York to San Antonio to visit.  I was still having a really difficult time calling him Chris, and didn't, most of the time, out of rebellion, mostly, but also because I seldom had reason to, as he was not around much.  He had begun to take testosterone in March and I'm sure there were some subtle changes, but none that I could really see. I didn't, and still don't, have much fear about the physical changes, for some reason.  I guess it might be because I've always lived by the adage that you should never judge a book by its cover.  I had seen both of my twins grow up from being little girls who allowed me to dress them for many years in girly clothes, to teenagers who shunned all things girly and preferred wearing boy clothes or non-gender clothes.  I would sometimes joke that I'd love to see them in a dress or skirt from time to time - and both did attend their senior proms in dresses and heels (much to everyone's surprise and appreciation - they looked amazing!), but I had grown accustomed and at ease with the clothes they wore and their more tom-boyish demeanor's.  Both were exceptional and dedicated basketball players in high school and rugby players in college.  They were never going to be girly girls.

So, anyway, Chris was at our house this one night.  After we had all spent a fun evening eating and then playing games at the kitchen table, at one point I saw that Chris was at the top of the stairs leaning into her bother's room talking to him.  I wandered up there and pulled Chris into the hallway toward the wall of pictures.  On one side of our upstairs hallway are pictures of Chris and Courtney when they were little.  On the opposite side of the hallway are 2 other walls that hold pictures of my son, Billy, and my daughter, Alexis, when they were little.  I tried to pull Chris to stand in front of the wall of him and his twin, but he resisted, saying, "I'm not doing this."

I knew what that meant without any further explanation, and I guess he knew why I was pulling him toward those photos.  I don't really know what I would have said if he had let me stand there with him and look at them, because he didn't want to hear whatever it is I might have said.  I think he had no desire to go back there at the same moment I needed him to go back there with me.

I walked away from Chris, upset.  He walked away, upset with me.  After he left that night ... I took all the pictures off of that wall - fully intending to never put them back up again.  Now I know, that that little girl in all those pictures is not who Chris sees himself to be, but on that night, all I could feel was that he was taking her away from me.  And so, in anger and pain, I thought maybe I was suppose to erase her, too, and so I tried to, by taking those photos down off the wall and packing them away.

The next morning I walked by that wall and it was bare.  Bare of all the precious, framed pictures of my twin girls.  Bare of every memory each picture held for me.  I was alone in the house and I looked at that bare wall and fell to my knees in the hallway and cried.  And then ... I got up.  I went and found all the pictures and ... put them back on the wall again.  No matter what, I couldn't live with all those memories hidden sadly away in a closet somewhere.  I needed them where they had always been, to remind me how much I loved all those days with my babies.

After this incident, a friend sent me a message suggesting something she thought I should do that might help me.  She said, "Sometime, when you are with Chris, you should ask him to lay with you and ask him to let you talk about Chloe.  Maybe this will help both of you."  I haven't really had the opportunity to ask Chris to do this, as he lives in New York and we haven't had much time together over the past 8 months since he began transitioning, but ... one day I will ask him to do this for me. And after we talk about my precious Chloe ... I think we should talk about Chris ...

Behind the Walls

I received a message from my sister the other day. She said, "Dad turned me on to your blog and I just wanted to share with you that you have the most amazing gift for writing and putting into words what your deepest self is feeling.  I only wish I could write that eloquently.  It is a gift and you are truly blessed with it."  This was just part of her message, but I wanted to share it because it meant so much to me.

When I began thinking about writing a book about my experience and feelings with regard to my transgender child, I debated (and still do) about whether or not it was a good idea.  I have had many people suggest I write such a book - many people who have encouraged me to say what it is like and how I feel.  The problem is, I don't want to hurt anyone - especially not Chris.  But ... just as my sister said, I tend to have a way with words and an innate ability to put my thoughts to paper in a way that people appreciate, and so I decided that it would be the best way for me to document this journey - for me, and for others to understand - through this blog and in writing a book.

Anyone who knows me well, knows how strong I am.  I suspect that it is the strength in me that causes people to expect complete and quick compliance and support for Chris.  My love and commitment to this child will never waver, not ever, but I am determined to make sure I maintain a certain amount of respect and care for myself though this journey, as well, and that involves making others understand (through my writing) that my feelings are real and difficult.  If I have to write every story and every feeling on a piece of paper then I will do that.

I ran into some friends yesterday at the grocery store - friends I know through Chris and Courtney, as they went to school with their daughter.  The wife hugged me and spoke to me about Chris and how much she loves him (and Courtney) and how her family is supportive.  She also relayed to me her concern for me - as a mother.  She said, as many mothers say to me, "As a mother, I feel your pain." She did not mean this as any disrespect to Chris, but as an acknowledgement to me that she could understand how difficult it could be.

My sister went on in her message to say that she was sorry my family and I, which is also her family, are going through this very difficult time and seemingly alone.  She said that she imagined I had a ton of friends that I probably confided in but wanted me to know that she was there for me and my family for anything we needed.  I confessed to her that I seldom talk to anyone about any of this unless they ask me questions or bring the subject up.  I don't know why I keep so much of it inside of me, build walls, but that is the way I handle most things.  Maybe it's not healthy, I don't know.  All I know is, I believe that I am my strongest person to help me get through this.  I think I don't want or need anyone to dissect the situation or my feelings anymore than I already have, nor do I require their opinions. This is between me and Chris - the battle that rages inside of me.  I'm certain he wishes it wasn't there and so do I, but it is, and I am the one who has to put this fire out.  I support Chris completely, as I have to and want to, but it is not easy for me.  And so ... I am writing about it and it is helping me. And ... I hope it will help others, too.

Behind all the walls I build is me and a million words - a lot of which I put in books I have written. I'm trying to tear down all the walls so I can be as close to Chris as possible. One way I am doing that is putting all the words and thoughts I have about all of this to paper ...