... 31 days and counting

• Posted by Ann Teve December 10, 2011 Filed in Society Girl's Personal Blogs #  #  #SRS  #happy  2,224 views
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  As I write, there is a beautiful, bright, cold Canadian winter day beyond the window. I'm all set at my computer for some work but before I start, I just have to write and tell you – friends who might remember me, and others here – my good news. On January 11, I fully start a new life as Ann. That is the date of my SRS.

  I am sol fortunate that this is covered by the Canadian Health Service, otherwise, I would not be able to afford it. It has been a very long path and at moments especially dispiriting, at moments uncertain and at moments exhillerating and at many, many moments just plain ordinary.

   

  I have been fortunate to be able to return to school to study for another degree. I am uncertain about returning to the business world so I am working toward a degree in Social Work. I have wonderful profs and equally wonderful classmates. For the most part they are very young and beautiful women – competent, ambitious and oh so smart. After a false start last year, I have done well this year and am very pleased. Certainly there are moments where being 58 I am simply out of step with my classmates most of whom are under 25. I could be a parent to any one of them.

   

  Along with school I have a parttime job in research. I am a research assistant in a Transgender/Transsexual study in Ontario, Canada and also working on an international HIV study. Both are incredibly interesting. The research group is wonderful and they have totally accepted me.

   

  I am often 'accused' of being courageous in this journey. I would characterize my journey as more the product of being too obstinate (or dumb) to stop.

   

  My surgery takes place on January 11th in Montreal, Canada. As this final step approaches, I have many clarifying (and terrifying) moments. I've always been an 'keep all options open' kind of girl. With surgery, there are doors that are finally closed. Before I can close those doors, there is much to bring to a final resolution. It is a good thing. I can feel the emotions in me; my confidence, like random buds in a spring garden appears randomly and increasingly.

   

  This part of my journey, though, will not be visible to my friends. Coming out and living full-time was the outwardly visible step. Living full-time was the step that let me claim my place in society, to find the fit and friends and fulfillment that I had been seeking all my life. The surgery, is my personal claim to me. I will be complete and fully committed to my new life. (I'll be able to go back to the beach, finally.)

   

  The Gender Society and all of the wonderful people – past and present – was a safe-haven and truly wonderful place to express myself, know that I was not alone and not invisible. You understood my challenges, consoled and comforted and guided me through the rough and shared the joys and successes. For that I am enormously thankful. I've made friends around the world and although our connection has been tenuous in the last years, you are never far from my thoughts.

   

  I've loved the chat. That is where my personality was able to blossom – even if my humour is corny. I hope that I've been an interesting and positive contribution to that.

   

  Hmmm, this is sounding more and more like a goodbye letter. It is not. My intention is solely to share an introspective moment with old friends.

   

  I am facing about a month's recovery. During that time, I hope to do a lot of reading. I'll probably appear in the chat, too. Come spring I'm going to buy a nice bathing suit (age appropriate, of course) and reclaim the beach, which I love. I'll go sunning and swimming. What an amazing spring this will be.

   

  For all of you, where ever you are on your path to whatever destination, stay hopeful and positive. I won't call this a 'dream-come-true', it is a destination finally reached. My new horizon is still distant but it is in sight. The winds are now favourable. I set sail in uncertainty but I am arriving in confidene and expectancy. Ironically, this part of my journey – which means so much to me – beyond a beaming smile will be invisible to everyone around me. But you and I will know.