The Story of Chris

I saw an old friend today I hadn't seen for a while.  We sat on her back patio, drank wine, talked a lot and laughed.  I'd missed her and plan on seeing more of her, because seeing her today reminded me of why I was so drawn to her when we met - we have a good time together and I love hearing about her life and she listens to mine.

We talked a lot about our kids, as they are all growing and going in many different directions.  We talked about our husbands and our parents and the lake, the ranch, the boats, the chores we both do that seem never ending.  We talked about getting older.  We talked about problems.  We talked about everything; so many things.  And then we talked about Chris.

I feel fortunate because this friend's daughter is a long-time friend of Chris and Courtney's and has remained a good friend to them through high school and college and to the present.  Through her daughter, my friend has heard and learned things about Chris's journey, to some degree, but I filled her in on details she was unaware of and how Chris's journey has affected me.  At one point I became emotional and cried and she asked me if I was okay with all of it.  I told her I was now, but when I tell of how it was for me in the beginning, I still sometimes grow emotional because it was such a difficult time for me, but I am past those hard times now and supportive and happy for Chris.  She then said to me, "I just want you to know that I admire how you've handled it all.  I don't know what I would have done or how I would have handled such a situation myself."

I can't honestly say that I know exactly how my friend feels about all Chris is going through, but she was kind and open and supportive and I think she is confused about a lot of it, as many people can be, but she asked questions and she listened to details and answers respectfully and compassionately.

When I was done telling her all I could think to tell her, I realized how much I needed to tell the story I know she had been waiting to hear for a long time - from me.  It's not the same story I tell everyone or just anyone, but I think that's maybe why I called her out of the blue, after a couple years of not being in touch - I think I needed for this good friend of mine to know our story - not for her, but for me.

I don't know how often, if ever, that friends or family wonder about us - wonder how we are all doing, but I imagine they believe, as most people would, that there are difficult issues and events and times you can go through with a child, and this must be one of the most difficult things a parent, a family, a child, a mother, could go through.  And they would be right.  I think I needed to see my friend because I have missed her tremendously, but I also think I needed to see her to give her the story and to let her see and hear that we are okay.

I did that today - with a good friend - the right person at the right time.  I feel relief.  Not because she now knows the truths and details and more answers, but because, sometimes, you just need to open every bit of yourself up and give another person ... your story.

My friend told me many of her stories today and I told her some of mine.  And then ... I gave to her the story of Chris ...

Love Begets Love?

Anger decides, for me, how I handle things, sometimes.

I have many conservative friends who believe many things differently than I do, yet we, somehow, manage to blend into each other's lives without chaos.  But ... it is becoming more difficult for me to maintain friendships with people who, too often or radically or cruelly, voice and demonstrate through their actions, their misinformed or ignorant or hate-filled opinions/ideas about gay and transgender people.  I have gone along for a while trying to offer the benefit of the doubt or intentional tolerance to some people, believing that everyone has the right to their ideas and opinions about such subjects, but it is becoming more and more difficult, as the lines are blurring now; not so easy to move for people.  I've become too conscious of the fact that I should not have to move lines in order to allow people to be near me or be near and around my family. I should not have to make attempts at making others more comfortable in their worlds just because they do not agree or understand ours.  Maybe it's my age.  Maybe my beliefs have become so strong when it comes to gay and transgender people that I have no tolerance for intolerance at all, anymore.

I am not moving lines anymore for people; I am pushing them away - even friends and family.  Those who feel the need to support and align themselves completely and outwardly with radical, "Christian" groups (or even Presidential candidates) who lash out, demonize, threaten, ridicule, judge and attempt to alienate and or segregate gay or transgender people - or any people.

I am pushing them away because we do not blend without chaos.

I am pushing them away because their hate is unhealthy for me and my family.

I am pushing them away to protect my gay and transgender children.

I am pushing them away because I hope that by losing us, by losing me, they might see that their hurtful and harmful beliefs create chaos that dissolves friendships and bonds, but also draws very defined and negative lines between them and good human beings.

I am pushing them away because I can and I will.

I am pushing them away because I have to choose a side, sometimes, and I choose my side.

In life there is black and white, up and down, forward and backward, questions and answers, top and bottom, dark and light ... right and wrong.

I am pushing them away because I decide what is right or wrong in my world and I will not allow "wrong" to shadow what I know to be "right".

I am pushing them away because their hate hurts and I don't know how to fix their hatred - not even with love.

I believe love always wins over hatred, but sometimes you have to be where love resides in order to keep your own heart from hating.  I push them way so I do not retaliate.

My mind tells me to not push people away.  Logic suggests to me that I should remain in the presence of even hate-filled people so that maybe I can influence them with my beliefs and love for things they disagree with, do not understand or refuse to accept.  I do that ... until I can no longer bear the scars they inflict on me or the people I love.  Then ... I push them away.

It is said that "Love begets love" but it is not always true.  Sometimes you have to eliminate those filled with hate so the things you love can grow stronger - and then, maybe, one day, you can return to that battlefield and face the hate with a purer heart and sweeter words for those that fan the flame of hated ...

The Kaleidoscope That is My Family

On this blog I write about my journey with Chris, but his journey involves a lot of people, including his siblings, Courtney, Billy and Alexis.  I seldom speak of them when writing my stories, as I do not feel right expressing their feelings or experiences, as I can not speak for them.  However, I can speak for myself as the mother to all of these children and I can acknowledge some of the strengths and struggles I have witnessed.

Courtney is Chris's identical twin sister and has been with Chris through every step and stage of his transition - been there physically and emotionally when I couldn't or wouldn't be.  I have come to learn that, in the beginning, Courtney struggled when Chris came out to her, for a short time, but it did not take long for Courtney to realize that her support of Chris was the only way to help her twin, not only survive, but thrive.  I know that if asked, Chris would say that Courtney was and is his biggest and strongest advocate, his very best friend and a huge reason he has come so far in finding himself. In the early days of my struggle with Chris being transgender, I often said and imagined that my fears and sadness and confusion must pale in comparison to what Courtney, his twin, must feel or be experiencing, but the truth is ... Courtney never seemed to have allowed her own fears or sadness or confusion (if there ever actually was any of those emotions) impact or define, in any way, her decision to rally beside and behind and in front of Chris.  Courtney was and remains one of the greatest factors in how and why I finally laid down myself for Chris.  I watched her do it with grace and kindness and selflessness.  I watched and learned, as quickly as I could, that, as much as I believed Chris being transgender was about me, it was not about me at all.  Or anyone.  It was and is about Chris.

Alexis is fourteen now and the youngest of our children.  Besides Courtney, she was the next in line to easily adapt and accept to the changes and to embrace who Chris needed to be.  She called him "Chris" from the moment he asked us to.  She never seemed to question why or how or when or what - she just simply accepted that Chloe would be Chris now and she prided herself, as she should, on her ability to recognize that this was a thing far bigger and far more important than herself or any idea that would suggest that it did not need to happen.  I have been deeply influenced by her, as well, as she reminds me, constantly, of what unconditional love looks and acts like.

Billy ... he was our only son, born five years after his twin sisters.  He has had the most difficult time with Chris transitioning.  He has been supportive, and I do not feel comfortable expressing any of his feelings for him, but I know that when he was born I wrote a poem that hung on the wall of his nursery for several years and one of the lines in that poem read, "In a world of ribbons and lace, in a world of little girls, I hope you find your place, my son."  When I wrote that poem there were only two girls in his world and there would come a third several years later.  It was never easy for Billy; the only boy in a house with so many girls - not so easy for him to find his place.  And then ... I believe he has felt he lost what space he thought he had found, by relinquishing some of that space now to Chris.  I do not know the depths of his anguish over this, but I believe it to be very real.

I could not have anticipated how the dynamics of our family, the changes of the dynamics, the dynamics of four siblings would or could or will affect each of my children.  I know that a family can spend certain amounts of time focusing on one problem, focusing on one person, focusing on surviving one thing, at times, in attempts at ensuring the success of one thing while unintentionally or potentially hurting another.  As the mother to these children, as a human being, I know I spent a lot of time pondering and living Chris's situation.  I found myself in a really dark place at times and I know my other children suffered because I was emotionally detached for a while from so many things, struggling to cope with what Chris was going through and what I was going through because of that.

There was a time way before I had children that I struggled tremendously with some issues from my own childhood.  There came a day when I had to find a way to forgive in order to feel more settled in my own life and go on.  One of the ways I did that was to tell myself to see my parents as little children and find a way to forgive the child.  If I believed that some of what happened to me was the result of how my parents were parented or how they experienced the dynamics in their childhoods and with their siblings (or lack of, in my father's case), then I found it easier to forgive my parents as adults and as parents to me.  Ultimately I learned to forgive because they simply did the best they could do.  Parenting is difficult.

I hold no ill feelings about my childhood.  In a lot of ways it and all that happened to me made me strong, independent, creative, a force, special.  I believe that is true of a lot of people who weather trauma.  I believe a person's family is the core to molding a person into who they will ultimately be in the world.  I know our family is far from perfect and still struggles at staying strong, but we all love each other and I hope when my kids are all grown that they will forgive each other, forgive their father and forgive me for the mistakes we've made with each other.

I see our family as a kaleidoscope - shards of so many beautiful pieces of glass that spin and spin, sometimes out of control, but ultimately align back together ... holding hands.

That Kind of Cry

I cried the other day.  One of those cries that crawls up through the center of your body and wraps that feeling of despair around your heart - a black sheet that shadows away the light, drapes your heart and mind and wads them into a ball and then tugs and tugs until the emotion rises to your throat as a lump and soon tears gush from your eyes - so many tears you think of a drowning person - so many tears glistening ribbons of sadness down your cheeks - so many tears from out of nowhere.

That kind of cry.  And I don't know where it came from, because I thought I had left most of the sadness behind me.  I thought I had adjusted and accepted and was settled.  Maybe you never really are settled.  Maybe you hide from some of the tears.

Chris asked me last night, "Tell me how you are?  Tell me what you think about."  We were sitting on the back porch of his house when we began to discuss aspects of his transition.  Before I could answer, he offered, "Don't I seem happy to you?"  I said, "Yes, you seem really happy."  He said, "I am happier than I have ever been, while I am not yet where I feel completely confident in my appearance, I am getting there and I am happy."  He went on to tell me when and how he came to know exactly that he was transgender and the events that triggered and propelled him to finally accept and move forward.  The information he offered me did not seem riveting or extraordinary to me, but I knew the moments and events he described were those days that altered his life and they were extraordinary events for him.

I then asked him, fearful, really, to know the answer, but needing to know, "Was it because of me, because of how I am and who I am that caused you to lose your identity?  I don't want to imply that your transitioning demands a place to place blame or fault, because that is not what I am implying, I am simply asking if somehow I, as your mother, failed you and contributed to you feeling lost?"  This was when he said, "No.  You are the strongest person I know.  You are the strongest woman I know. It is because of you, who you are and how you taught me that I found the strength to do what I needed to do and be who I need to be."

I then asked, "Did it have anything to do with being Courtney's twin?  Feeling inferior in anyway? Feeling the need to create your own, separate identity from her?"  He said, "No, it has nothing to do with being a twin - being Courtney's twin."  I explained to him that my struggles were all very real early on, and went on for a while, but my coming to accept the reality and his need for my acceptance and help were primarily and almost completely (aside from my real fear of losing him and my love for him) due to Courtney's persistent and adamant demands on me to accept and support him.

Chris then asked me again, "Tell me how you are.  Tell me what you think about?"

I did not mention that I had cried recently.  He did not need to know that a flood of hidden sadness overwhelmed me.  I didn't even know how to explain the tears, and so I didn't mention them.  But I did say, "I'm fine and happy for you because you seem happy and I am happy when I'm around you, but I never know on this journey when a new stage will overwhelm me or surprise me.  The two things I struggle a bit with right now is calling you my son and accepting your plans to have top surgery in January.  I do not have difficulty telling people you are transgender, but I find it difficult to say I have 2 daughters and 2 sons, even though I know that is what I have.  And I am not fearful of the physical aspect of you removing your breasts, while I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around how people can do that - probably because I care so much about mine - I am not fearful, I am just at another fork in the road of acceptance.  Just about the time I think I can anticipate and then cope with aspects of this journey, others come along to challenge me."

I can not sit across the table from any of my children without feeling their emotions - happy, sad, angry, excited, bored, anxious, nervous, confused ... this is what I have always believed.  But last night I sat across the table from Chris and really felt his emotions - happiness, contentment, satisfaction, joy, confidence, nervousness, love ... and realized that there were years and years of emotions I was blind to see or that he hid from me because ... to bring yourself to these positive levels of emotions, you would likely have been dwelling, at least for a time, somewhere else far more negative.  While I saw and experienced and recognized some of Chris's sadness and turmoil over the years, I never felt the depths of it, and I know it was deep because the person I sat across the table from last night, the person who had pulled himself up to this new, better place was not the person I ever saw before.  And I like this person better because it is so obvious he likes himself so much more and I can feel it when I'm around him.

I think the tears I cried ... no, I know the tears I cried were guilt.  Guilt I carry for often questioning more easily than I accept.  Guilt I carry for years of certain neglect or blindness.  Guilt I carry because I blame myself for a lot of things.

Chris said, "It is because of you, who you are and how you taught me that I found the strength to do what I needed to do and be who I need to be."  He then said, "I don't say this to flatter you.  I say this because it is the truth.  I learned from you how to be strong and fight for what is right and fight for what is right for me."

When Chloe was little I use to say to her, "Always strive to reach your fullest potential.  Imagine what you can do and be if you use all of your potential."

I remember saying it.  I believed it.  Now I am seeing Chris do it ... <3