Please Visit Our Sponsor





User's Tags

Ann Teve 's Entries

188 blogs
  • 23 Oct 2008
    I mentioned to my manager that I'd passed a year as Ann at work. She smiled. It seemed no big deal to her. I thanked her and the company for her support over the year. I'd learned a lot. I think.To me it seems that transitioning begins about the clothes and one's look. Every morning is preoccupied with dressing -- what will go with what and do I look 'alright'. Maybe with time the familiarity of the clothes, the repetition, the normality of it, diminishes the concern about the personal look and raises the concern about fitting in and being comfortable. I'm still not comfortable with slacks. They make me look like a guy with a wig. I have pretty-much dispensed with heels. At 6-feet, heels lift me into the clouds. Makeup has become more modest too. Remarkable that less really is more or more likely, I have come to accept my looks as they are and indirectly what others think of me.I've given up caring about the looks of others, too. I've seen so many people over the past year. You have to look for reaction to find it. I suppose it will always be there but positive reaction and interaction is the greater part of my day. Young or old, male or female, whatever social level, there are good people and bad and my experience is no different than any other clerk. The compliments sustain me.I've been called on twice now to help others. On both occasions, I served someone who later called back and asked to speak with me, complimented my self-assurance and courage and asked if I might offer support to another transgendered. I always do. From invisibility I am now recognizeable in many stores with staff making an effort to say hello. It is a very nice feeling but I wonder at such acceptance as Ann that I never received as Michael.This has not been hard, or I don't really feel it was now that I am mostly through this trial. I wrestle more with the depression that haunts me through my bi-polar. I have felt deeply, deeply alone even thought I have a wonderful friend with whom I can share my feelings.
    939 Posted by Ann Teve
  • I mentioned to my manager that I'd passed a year as Ann at work. She smiled. It seemed no big deal to her. I thanked her and the company for her support over the year. I'd learned a lot. I think.To me it seems that transitioning begins about the clothes and one's look. Every morning is preoccupied with dressing -- what will go with what and do I look 'alright'. Maybe with time the familiarity of the clothes, the repetition, the normality of it, diminishes the concern about the personal look and raises the concern about fitting in and being comfortable. I'm still not comfortable with slacks. They make me look like a guy with a wig. I have pretty-much dispensed with heels. At 6-feet, heels lift me into the clouds. Makeup has become more modest too. Remarkable that less really is more or more likely, I have come to accept my looks as they are and indirectly what others think of me.I've given up caring about the looks of others, too. I've seen so many people over the past year. You have to look for reaction to find it. I suppose it will always be there but positive reaction and interaction is the greater part of my day. Young or old, male or female, whatever social level, there are good people and bad and my experience is no different than any other clerk. The compliments sustain me.I've been called on twice now to help others. On both occasions, I served someone who later called back and asked to speak with me, complimented my self-assurance and courage and asked if I might offer support to another transgendered. I always do. From invisibility I am now recognizeable in many stores with staff making an effort to say hello. It is a very nice feeling but I wonder at such acceptance as Ann that I never received as Michael.This has not been hard, or I don't really feel it was now that I am mostly through this trial. I wrestle more with the depression that haunts me through my bi-polar. I have felt deeply, deeply alone even thought I have a wonderful friend with whom I can share my feelings.
    Oct 23, 2008 939
  • 04 Sep 2008
    September 1st isn't the first day of autumn but it sure feels that way. August isn't the last month of summer either, but it sure feels that way. August is the transition and this is seen most strongly in the clouds. The summers of Southern Ontario, Canada -- that part that dips further south than the northern border of California and nestled as they are in the fold of the Great Lakes -- are hot and humid. Summer clouds are stormy, low and dark, laden with rain. The sky is hidden. The sun retreats.The clouds of August, arriving every year in the first week of August, are bold Cumulo-nimbus clouds, a confident dazzling white, distinct, dynamic and active, shifting from shape to shape against a stunning perfect blue sky, as they course purposefully across that blue.  The sun idles through the clouds as if wandering through an orchard, rays of warmth striking your cheek now and again like a reassuring touch. As a teen, I would lie alone on my back in the new mowed grass of the backyard (garden for the English) and try to make sense of what I saw in these clouds, and make sense of what I saw in myself.I can still watch clouds for hours. Each day now admiring the sky is every day I've experienced. Past sensations are drawn from deep memory and blended with the present and all of my experiences exist in the same moment. The clouds make you wonder, "What now?"These clouds of August, these clouds of transition from summer to fall are my reminder of my transition. Perhaps in some ways my personality has come together, bold and dynamic, against the new stark backdrop of my life. I am just a month and a half from my first full year as Ann. There are events and people that I must thank for this. I have not done this alone. I have often been admired as courageous. I'm not so sure that it is for me. In some ways it almost seemed capitulation to the forces within.The fall will be a period of change for me. The year has made a difference to me, if only in the confidence that I now have. It seems that confidence is the most convincing outfit that I can wear.
    1139 Posted by Ann Teve
  • September 1st isn't the first day of autumn but it sure feels that way. August isn't the last month of summer either, but it sure feels that way. August is the transition and this is seen most strongly in the clouds. The summers of Southern Ontario, Canada -- that part that dips further south than the northern border of California and nestled as they are in the fold of the Great Lakes -- are hot and humid. Summer clouds are stormy, low and dark, laden with rain. The sky is hidden. The sun retreats.The clouds of August, arriving every year in the first week of August, are bold Cumulo-nimbus clouds, a confident dazzling white, distinct, dynamic and active, shifting from shape to shape against a stunning perfect blue sky, as they course purposefully across that blue.  The sun idles through the clouds as if wandering through an orchard, rays of warmth striking your cheek now and again like a reassuring touch. As a teen, I would lie alone on my back in the new mowed grass of the backyard (garden for the English) and try to make sense of what I saw in these clouds, and make sense of what I saw in myself.I can still watch clouds for hours. Each day now admiring the sky is every day I've experienced. Past sensations are drawn from deep memory and blended with the present and all of my experiences exist in the same moment. The clouds make you wonder, "What now?"These clouds of August, these clouds of transition from summer to fall are my reminder of my transition. Perhaps in some ways my personality has come together, bold and dynamic, against the new stark backdrop of my life. I am just a month and a half from my first full year as Ann. There are events and people that I must thank for this. I have not done this alone. I have often been admired as courageous. I'm not so sure that it is for me. In some ways it almost seemed capitulation to the forces within.The fall will be a period of change for me. The year has made a difference to me, if only in the confidence that I now have. It seems that confidence is the most convincing outfit that I can wear.
    Sep 04, 2008 1139
  • 15 Aug 2008
    I'm a rationalist believing only in what I can see. That's why I don't pay my electric bill (Is there really something there?). Actually, I 'm not quite that bad. It's not that I want to be this way, I just am. For me, Karma is mostly a soft chewy candy sold in little plastic wrapped squares.This perpective, then , makes it doubly hard for me to rationalize my life when things seem to 'happen for a reason'. My return to London and consequent employment at Lee Valley have this aura -- events that have moved me forward in life in significant ways. I simply would not be where I am without these events taking place.I divide my life now BT and AT that being before and after transition. In that time BT, I resolved never to let anyone know that I was trans, that I was a woman. I worked at this with steely determination always conscious of every move lest it reveal my secret. A great part of my consciousness was given to this effort. Dressing as Ann was a private -- a hidden sin. A knock at the door while dressed would send me into panic. Misplaced panties could have been emotional death. There would be a time when I broke with my past, disappeared into a new life, leaving behind -- if they even remembered me -- people wondering what ever became of me but nevering knowing who I really was.Lee Valley was my 'outing', the place where circumstances required that I go fulltime. It was the place that accepted and supported me. Being a clerk has thrown me into contact with dozens of people every day. I am no-longer shy, I no longer try to feign femininity -- take me as I am. I feel accepted. And in this parade of people have come acquaintances from every time period of my life.At first, I said nothing, simply watched these people from my past, realizing that I was unrecognized. I felt strangely powerful that a shared past existed of which they were unaware. I noted how they had changed, whether they looked happy or sad, affluent or not. I came to wonder at the places that they had been and their experiences. And I started to want them to know of my travels, I wanted to show them what I had become.G was the first. He was a classmate from highschool. I approached him at the counter and realizing that he didn't recognize me at all offered, "I'm about to give you the biggest surprise of your day.""How do you propose to do that?" he replied suspiciously."Does the name Michael Steel mean anything?"His face lit up in complete surprise. We would come to have dinner and meet with another acquaintance from highschool, to talk, and for me to realize that they hadn't changed at all. Oddly, being together I realized that I was somehow separate from them in a way different from highschool. I had a moment of feeling very female.I'm not sure what I felt after this meeting but it was good. I learned something. I felt better about myself. I had reclaimed my past. I had claimed me.Recently, another person came into Lee Valley, my best friend from the early years of Public School. I recognized him just by the way he moved. I introduced myself and we talked ending a separation of nearly 40 years. How strange this all is.I've wondered at the value of Lee Valley in my life, in my recovery and in my transition. It seems to play such an important role. It was the perfect event to happen.Maybe there is such a thing as Karma.
    640 Posted by Ann Teve
  • I'm a rationalist believing only in what I can see. That's why I don't pay my electric bill (Is there really something there?). Actually, I 'm not quite that bad. It's not that I want to be this way, I just am. For me, Karma is mostly a soft chewy candy sold in little plastic wrapped squares.This perpective, then , makes it doubly hard for me to rationalize my life when things seem to 'happen for a reason'. My return to London and consequent employment at Lee Valley have this aura -- events that have moved me forward in life in significant ways. I simply would not be where I am without these events taking place.I divide my life now BT and AT that being before and after transition. In that time BT, I resolved never to let anyone know that I was trans, that I was a woman. I worked at this with steely determination always conscious of every move lest it reveal my secret. A great part of my consciousness was given to this effort. Dressing as Ann was a private -- a hidden sin. A knock at the door while dressed would send me into panic. Misplaced panties could have been emotional death. There would be a time when I broke with my past, disappeared into a new life, leaving behind -- if they even remembered me -- people wondering what ever became of me but nevering knowing who I really was.Lee Valley was my 'outing', the place where circumstances required that I go fulltime. It was the place that accepted and supported me. Being a clerk has thrown me into contact with dozens of people every day. I am no-longer shy, I no longer try to feign femininity -- take me as I am. I feel accepted. And in this parade of people have come acquaintances from every time period of my life.At first, I said nothing, simply watched these people from my past, realizing that I was unrecognized. I felt strangely powerful that a shared past existed of which they were unaware. I noted how they had changed, whether they looked happy or sad, affluent or not. I came to wonder at the places that they had been and their experiences. And I started to want them to know of my travels, I wanted to show them what I had become.G was the first. He was a classmate from highschool. I approached him at the counter and realizing that he didn't recognize me at all offered, "I'm about to give you the biggest surprise of your day.""How do you propose to do that?" he replied suspiciously."Does the name Michael Steel mean anything?"His face lit up in complete surprise. We would come to have dinner and meet with another acquaintance from highschool, to talk, and for me to realize that they hadn't changed at all. Oddly, being together I realized that I was somehow separate from them in a way different from highschool. I had a moment of feeling very female.I'm not sure what I felt after this meeting but it was good. I learned something. I felt better about myself. I had reclaimed my past. I had claimed me.Recently, another person came into Lee Valley, my best friend from the early years of Public School. I recognized him just by the way he moved. I introduced myself and we talked ending a separation of nearly 40 years. How strange this all is.I've wondered at the value of Lee Valley in my life, in my recovery and in my transition. It seems to play such an important role. It was the perfect event to happen.Maybe there is such a thing as Karma.
    Aug 15, 2008 640
  • 14 Aug 2008
    My alarm buzzes at 6:00 AM workday or day off. On the days off, it's lovely to lie in. This day off was no different, but as I contempted the sun speckled wall I was startled by a sliding, 'shushing' sound followed by a resounding thump and that by the sound of a car engine revving beyond its limit. Silence; but I was already on my feet scrambling into my elderly mother's room. Had she fallen? No, she lay there just beginning to stir with Smudge my cat by her side and eyeing me with that sleepy-eyed distain of cat awakened from a good sleep.I pulled open the front blinds to see a dark blue car - wrecked - steaming and venting dark black smoke, next to the shattered remains of a small boulevard tree.My mind raced, one thought after another,"I've got to get out there and help the driver." "Wait! You can't go out there looking like a guy!""Where is my wig?""I haven't shaved.""What should I wear?""What am I thinking! I have to help someone, vanity be damned!"I threw off my nightie and wrestled on the first tee-shirt I could grab, my shorts and a ballcap as I raced out the door -- I couldn't go out without something on my head, my hair is so thin and to my embarassment emergency or no, I was too self-conscious not to.Through the driver's door, two neighbours were bent over the unconscious driver -- an eighteen year old -- slumped partly over the airbag and partly into the center of the car. The Onstar informed as I wrenched open the passenger door that, "There has been an accident, please remain with the car!" Cool! Onstar actually works."Quick lets get him out of the car!""NO! He's injured. Lets wait for the ambulance.""What about fire?" Smoke from the engine compartment was increasing. Jamie -- a very buff specimen of a young man -- cradled the driver and pulled him out. I provided some lift from the passenger side. The driver was laid on a driveway. As we settled him, flames appeared in the engine compartment. I ran for the garden hose. A neighbour ran for her fire extinquisher. The garden hose was feebly effective to knock back the flames but  the fire extinquisher with the authoritative blast of a geyser blew everything out of the engine compartment in a shower of white powder. The car was a smoldering wreck.On questioning the driver it became quite obvious that he was serious drunk and equally seriously injured -- we would later find out that not only was his right arm and leg broken, he had suffered massive fractures of his pelvis. The fire department came and shuffled around the scene in there oversized trousers held by robust suspenders. The police arrived in a posse and determined that this was a 'crime scene' and finally the ambulance arrived and began to tend to the boy. No longer needed we stood back to watch the proceedings and to discuss in hushed tones and knowing 'tsks' the consequences of drinking and driving.I had forgotten the state I was in but suddenly realized that I must look a sight. I was tempted to flee back to the house but conversation held me. When I could I moved off by myself. I was rattled by the events of the morning and now equally uncomfortable at the thought of the neighbours having seen me 'unvarnished'.As I stood, bare feet damp and cold from the morning dew, a neighbour approached. She complimented my contribution. She began to ask questions of me, the kind that neighbours ask to get to know you and to be armed with interesting gossip. She was unfazed by my appearance. At some silly, inappropriate moment I offered, "I'm transsexual in the process of transition." She was unfazed. We talked more and in that moment became friends. Later, she was say to me, "You're very, very courageous to have been so open with me. I feel privileged to know you."EpilogueThe driver was eighteen. He had a restricted license requiring a licensed driver in the car when driving. He was far over the limit in blood alcohol and his license had a zero-tolerance limit. The car was estimated to have hit the tree at over 100 km/hour. He had never tried to brake. He had taken the car without permission. The car was leased and to be covered by insurance the mother would have to declare that the car was stolen. The police estimated at least 8 major infractions and that he mind spend time in jail -- after, of course, the many painful months that he would spend in hospital as they attempted to repair his pelvis.I made a new friend in the neighbourhood and gained greater acceptance of the neighbours in general. I felt that I had made a contribution as Ann and realized that I can be accepted exactly as I really am. I went out and bought a new wig.http://www.onstar.com/canada_english/jsp/explore/index.jspp
    661 Posted by Ann Teve
  • My alarm buzzes at 6:00 AM workday or day off. On the days off, it's lovely to lie in. This day off was no different, but as I contempted the sun speckled wall I was startled by a sliding, 'shushing' sound followed by a resounding thump and that by the sound of a car engine revving beyond its limit. Silence; but I was already on my feet scrambling into my elderly mother's room. Had she fallen? No, she lay there just beginning to stir with Smudge my cat by her side and eyeing me with that sleepy-eyed distain of cat awakened from a good sleep.I pulled open the front blinds to see a dark blue car - wrecked - steaming and venting dark black smoke, next to the shattered remains of a small boulevard tree.My mind raced, one thought after another,"I've got to get out there and help the driver." "Wait! You can't go out there looking like a guy!""Where is my wig?""I haven't shaved.""What should I wear?""What am I thinking! I have to help someone, vanity be damned!"I threw off my nightie and wrestled on the first tee-shirt I could grab, my shorts and a ballcap as I raced out the door -- I couldn't go out without something on my head, my hair is so thin and to my embarassment emergency or no, I was too self-conscious not to.Through the driver's door, two neighbours were bent over the unconscious driver -- an eighteen year old -- slumped partly over the airbag and partly into the center of the car. The Onstar informed as I wrenched open the passenger door that, "There has been an accident, please remain with the car!" Cool! Onstar actually works."Quick lets get him out of the car!""NO! He's injured. Lets wait for the ambulance.""What about fire?" Smoke from the engine compartment was increasing. Jamie -- a very buff specimen of a young man -- cradled the driver and pulled him out. I provided some lift from the passenger side. The driver was laid on a driveway. As we settled him, flames appeared in the engine compartment. I ran for the garden hose. A neighbour ran for her fire extinquisher. The garden hose was feebly effective to knock back the flames but  the fire extinquisher with the authoritative blast of a geyser blew everything out of the engine compartment in a shower of white powder. The car was a smoldering wreck.On questioning the driver it became quite obvious that he was serious drunk and equally seriously injured -- we would later find out that not only was his right arm and leg broken, he had suffered massive fractures of his pelvis. The fire department came and shuffled around the scene in there oversized trousers held by robust suspenders. The police arrived in a posse and determined that this was a 'crime scene' and finally the ambulance arrived and began to tend to the boy. No longer needed we stood back to watch the proceedings and to discuss in hushed tones and knowing 'tsks' the consequences of drinking and driving.I had forgotten the state I was in but suddenly realized that I must look a sight. I was tempted to flee back to the house but conversation held me. When I could I moved off by myself. I was rattled by the events of the morning and now equally uncomfortable at the thought of the neighbours having seen me 'unvarnished'.As I stood, bare feet damp and cold from the morning dew, a neighbour approached. She complimented my contribution. She began to ask questions of me, the kind that neighbours ask to get to know you and to be armed with interesting gossip. She was unfazed by my appearance. At some silly, inappropriate moment I offered, "I'm transsexual in the process of transition." She was unfazed. We talked more and in that moment became friends. Later, she was say to me, "You're very, very courageous to have been so open with me. I feel privileged to know you."EpilogueThe driver was eighteen. He had a restricted license requiring a licensed driver in the car when driving. He was far over the limit in blood alcohol and his license had a zero-tolerance limit. The car was estimated to have hit the tree at over 100 km/hour. He had never tried to brake. He had taken the car without permission. The car was leased and to be covered by insurance the mother would have to declare that the car was stolen. The police estimated at least 8 major infractions and that he mind spend time in jail -- after, of course, the many painful months that he would spend in hospital as they attempted to repair his pelvis.I made a new friend in the neighbourhood and gained greater acceptance of the neighbours in general. I felt that I had made a contribution as Ann and realized that I can be accepted exactly as I really am. I went out and bought a new wig.http://www.onstar.com/canada_english/jsp/explore/index.jspp
    Aug 14, 2008 661
  • 24 Jun 2008
    One objective of my blog (and I hope not presumptuous) is to show honestly and candidly, the emotional stages of my first year fulltime. My experiences may be of value to those who follow. The emotional stage of the last week has been one of uncertainty. Contributing to my uncertainty, perhaps better expressed by the thought that jumps when or whereever into one's consciousness, "What the f**k am I doing?" is a change in medication for Bi-Polar. That could be a BIG factor but it has nonetheless caused soul-searching and sleepless nights.Having neither SRS or facial surgery nor having addressed a very thin pate, I am -- without the aid of wig and clothes -- your regular guy. I am in one way astonished at the impact that clothes alone have. Does this mean that guys can just dress up and 'be' girls? I am treated by the staff as the gender I wish to be. The women staff willingly engage in personal conversations with me, completely accepting of Ann as Ann. The guys too have taken to treating me as Ann, as a woman. I am no longer included in their 'male' conversations. All of this because of the way I dress? Is there more to this? Am I missing something here.On some days, it seems that every customer treats me -- and often refers to me -- as a guy. This is hugely dispiriting for me but also raises an intriguing question, just what exactly do they think of me, if they're referring to me as a guy -- basically seeing me as a guy -- when I'm in a skirt, blouse, wig and wearing eyeshadow and lipstick. Now that a REALLY tolerate person to accept that paradox that they have created.Over my life I've started a lot of ultimately unfinished projects. My transition has the makings of exactly such a project. The cost of surgeries are substantial. I am closing on my first full year as Ann and my second year coming to terms dealing with Bi-Polar. I have aspirations of returning to school but not the money. I haven't the money for anything. More and more questions loom about where my place in the future will be. I guess that my perspective has been preoccupied with the near-term.There is a personal benefit to blogging, it has the effect of making me feel better. Given that, I shall end this.
    624 Posted by Ann Teve
  • One objective of my blog (and I hope not presumptuous) is to show honestly and candidly, the emotional stages of my first year fulltime. My experiences may be of value to those who follow. The emotional stage of the last week has been one of uncertainty. Contributing to my uncertainty, perhaps better expressed by the thought that jumps when or whereever into one's consciousness, "What the f**k am I doing?" is a change in medication for Bi-Polar. That could be a BIG factor but it has nonetheless caused soul-searching and sleepless nights.Having neither SRS or facial surgery nor having addressed a very thin pate, I am -- without the aid of wig and clothes -- your regular guy. I am in one way astonished at the impact that clothes alone have. Does this mean that guys can just dress up and 'be' girls? I am treated by the staff as the gender I wish to be. The women staff willingly engage in personal conversations with me, completely accepting of Ann as Ann. The guys too have taken to treating me as Ann, as a woman. I am no longer included in their 'male' conversations. All of this because of the way I dress? Is there more to this? Am I missing something here.On some days, it seems that every customer treats me -- and often refers to me -- as a guy. This is hugely dispiriting for me but also raises an intriguing question, just what exactly do they think of me, if they're referring to me as a guy -- basically seeing me as a guy -- when I'm in a skirt, blouse, wig and wearing eyeshadow and lipstick. Now that a REALLY tolerate person to accept that paradox that they have created.Over my life I've started a lot of ultimately unfinished projects. My transition has the makings of exactly such a project. The cost of surgeries are substantial. I am closing on my first full year as Ann and my second year coming to terms dealing with Bi-Polar. I have aspirations of returning to school but not the money. I haven't the money for anything. More and more questions loom about where my place in the future will be. I guess that my perspective has been preoccupied with the near-term.There is a personal benefit to blogging, it has the effect of making me feel better. Given that, I shall end this.
    Jun 24, 2008 624
  • 17 Jun 2008
    Remember the chipmunk? Well, its still around, darting across the hearth and under a chair this morning. I chased, but with the bouncing gate of Chip and Dale, it skittered away down the hall. An open door was uninviting. Its still there now. Wait 'till Smudge gets home. Ah, these little moments of life.I'm coming to realize that living fulltime isn't what I expected at all. My original opinion that a Real Life Test (Trial) was just mean has changed somewhat. I still think that very masculine t-girls would have a hard time but I realize that perhaps not the torment that I imaginedIts a bit of a fairy tale to think that I 'pass' in the sense of my physique, I 'pass' because people allow me to and that's most if not very nearly all of the people that I meet. I also 'pass' because I choose to pass. It would say something strange about me if I continued to obsess about clothes, there's a lot more to life than that. I'm not sure that the way I conduct myself now is more confident than indifferent. I've got other things to do and other things occupying my mind. I guess what I'm trying to say is that fulltime really isn't the trial that I thought it would be. It has become nearly natural -- I can't say totally natural because there are still moments when I worry about how I look.My obsession now is money -- or more correctly the lack thereof. When I consider my age (54) and work history and my present circumstance, it can be cause for serious depression. I am learning -- reluctantly -- to find more to life than the things that money can buy to fill it. I have got pleasure in my garden, a little rockery with plants that are actually flowering, but how much of gardening can one take? There is more to this life, I'm sure. What is in store for me, I can't yet imagine. Perhaps liking passing, if I just accept who I am and presume that what comes will be good, it will be.
    725 Posted by Ann Teve
  • Remember the chipmunk? Well, its still around, darting across the hearth and under a chair this morning. I chased, but with the bouncing gate of Chip and Dale, it skittered away down the hall. An open door was uninviting. Its still there now. Wait 'till Smudge gets home. Ah, these little moments of life.I'm coming to realize that living fulltime isn't what I expected at all. My original opinion that a Real Life Test (Trial) was just mean has changed somewhat. I still think that very masculine t-girls would have a hard time but I realize that perhaps not the torment that I imaginedIts a bit of a fairy tale to think that I 'pass' in the sense of my physique, I 'pass' because people allow me to and that's most if not very nearly all of the people that I meet. I also 'pass' because I choose to pass. It would say something strange about me if I continued to obsess about clothes, there's a lot more to life than that. I'm not sure that the way I conduct myself now is more confident than indifferent. I've got other things to do and other things occupying my mind. I guess what I'm trying to say is that fulltime really isn't the trial that I thought it would be. It has become nearly natural -- I can't say totally natural because there are still moments when I worry about how I look.My obsession now is money -- or more correctly the lack thereof. When I consider my age (54) and work history and my present circumstance, it can be cause for serious depression. I am learning -- reluctantly -- to find more to life than the things that money can buy to fill it. I have got pleasure in my garden, a little rockery with plants that are actually flowering, but how much of gardening can one take? There is more to this life, I'm sure. What is in store for me, I can't yet imagine. Perhaps liking passing, if I just accept who I am and presume that what comes will be good, it will be.
    Jun 17, 2008 725
  • 13 Jun 2008
    Four more days will bring me to the 3/4 mark of my first year living full-time. It has happened very quickly. It has been very good.I am finding comfort in my new role. Clothes do not entirely make the person, fitting those clothes and being comfortable in them, physically and emotionally is necessary. I guess -- and I have to say guess -- that I reaching that.There are uncertain moments where I realize that the impression I make is now pretty much what it will always be. I am comfortable as a female and think that I act (without being false or contrived) as a female. I am learning how it is that men treat women and how women treat women. It is a different world than I'm used to.Occasionally, I catch myself in a female gesture, pose or response and wonder at the origin. Has this really been latent in me?There is a pinch of alarm on occasion when I realize that my 'maleness' is noticeably diminished. Some of this I attribute to no longer being self-aware of acting 'like a guy should' which was my past.I am coming to terms with my marriage. The tears and heartache are much reduced. There are now moments of whistful recall, moments of wishing but more and more moments of anticipation for the future. All of this will somehow be survivable even thriveable (if that is a word).I am feeling a longing for a companion, a feeling that I never expected in me and puzzled at in others. I have more friends now as Ann than I've ever had. I am treated will and well liked and yet somehow there is a loneliness to all of this. I don't know if this partner will be male or female. I don't know even if I have the courage to make the attempt to find someone like this. This is a mystery for the future.Finally my Bi-Polar is coming under control. I'm not quite there yet but vastly improved in my mental and emotional outlook. There was a lost ten years when my attending GP failed to diagnose me correctly. All one can do is shrug and move on. There are still glitches, still bad days, but more and more a constant feeling of wellbeing. It is that well being that allows me to go out as Ann and accept how I am accepted. (Recently, an older couple came into the store and on seeing me the man loudly asked, "What's with the guy in the kilt?" Such is life.) I have submitted an Intention to Register for the fall term at King's University for Social Work. One year is required to make up courses and then I would take the last two years of an Hons. BA in Social Work. This would allow me to work with young transgendered, something that my experience I would like to believe prepares me for. We shall see. It is also a way of putting in a meaningful year as I am not yet ready for fulltime office work (if I could even get it!)Smudge my cat is now officially an outdoor cat. I started by watching her and running and catching her when I thought she might run off. Now, she comes and goes through a small openning by the door. She brought a chipmunk into the house as a prize but she hasn't yet mastered dispatching such prizes, so on putting it down for me to admire, the chipmunk shot for freedom (or at least safety) in the bookcase. She was discovered motionless behind a book but instantly on discovery bolted under a chesterfield (sofa? divan?) and was lost.It would seem that both Smudge and I have things to learn in our new worlds.
    720 Posted by Ann Teve
  • Four more days will bring me to the 3/4 mark of my first year living full-time. It has happened very quickly. It has been very good.I am finding comfort in my new role. Clothes do not entirely make the person, fitting those clothes and being comfortable in them, physically and emotionally is necessary. I guess -- and I have to say guess -- that I reaching that.There are uncertain moments where I realize that the impression I make is now pretty much what it will always be. I am comfortable as a female and think that I act (without being false or contrived) as a female. I am learning how it is that men treat women and how women treat women. It is a different world than I'm used to.Occasionally, I catch myself in a female gesture, pose or response and wonder at the origin. Has this really been latent in me?There is a pinch of alarm on occasion when I realize that my 'maleness' is noticeably diminished. Some of this I attribute to no longer being self-aware of acting 'like a guy should' which was my past.I am coming to terms with my marriage. The tears and heartache are much reduced. There are now moments of whistful recall, moments of wishing but more and more moments of anticipation for the future. All of this will somehow be survivable even thriveable (if that is a word).I am feeling a longing for a companion, a feeling that I never expected in me and puzzled at in others. I have more friends now as Ann than I've ever had. I am treated will and well liked and yet somehow there is a loneliness to all of this. I don't know if this partner will be male or female. I don't know even if I have the courage to make the attempt to find someone like this. This is a mystery for the future.Finally my Bi-Polar is coming under control. I'm not quite there yet but vastly improved in my mental and emotional outlook. There was a lost ten years when my attending GP failed to diagnose me correctly. All one can do is shrug and move on. There are still glitches, still bad days, but more and more a constant feeling of wellbeing. It is that well being that allows me to go out as Ann and accept how I am accepted. (Recently, an older couple came into the store and on seeing me the man loudly asked, "What's with the guy in the kilt?" Such is life.) I have submitted an Intention to Register for the fall term at King's University for Social Work. One year is required to make up courses and then I would take the last two years of an Hons. BA in Social Work. This would allow me to work with young transgendered, something that my experience I would like to believe prepares me for. We shall see. It is also a way of putting in a meaningful year as I am not yet ready for fulltime office work (if I could even get it!)Smudge my cat is now officially an outdoor cat. I started by watching her and running and catching her when I thought she might run off. Now, she comes and goes through a small openning by the door. She brought a chipmunk into the house as a prize but she hasn't yet mastered dispatching such prizes, so on putting it down for me to admire, the chipmunk shot for freedom (or at least safety) in the bookcase. She was discovered motionless behind a book but instantly on discovery bolted under a chesterfield (sofa? divan?) and was lost.It would seem that both Smudge and I have things to learn in our new worlds.
    Jun 13, 2008 720
  • 21 May 2008
    The Canadian spring holiday (the "May 24th Weekend", a name that coincides with the number of bottles of beer in a case (a  "two-fer") and typically purchased by the celebrants of this weekend who spend it in tents, in the rain, in our provincial parks in an intoxicated state) has just passed. It was a cold weekend. It rained. It was a melancholy weekend. This transformation of my soul is strange. From moment to moment I am unsure of what I am feeling. I couldn't have predicted the costs of my transition, the changes to my life. There are moments when the future looks absolutely barren and lonely. I am frequently scoring the losses against the gains and wondering at my determination to continue.In many ways, my transition is now invisible. I don't think about dressing in the morning, I don't think about being 'on display' at work. Its all very normal and routine. I still get puzzled looks and the odd 'sir'. I am  mostly indifferent to this now. I'm still conscious of what I wear and am slowly learning some fashion sense with the help of my friends.I am changing in personality. I am becoming softer. I know that doesn't make much sense. I have been patronized by men now, often when I offer insights they don't expect 'from a woman'.I am coming to terms with the loss of family and my wife. Sometime in the next month the final decree arrives and a significant chapter of my life is over. With the time that has passed I can see the good of that time and that it was a good time for both of us. I think that my life has followed what was really in my heart and my sadness over 'the things I didn't do' is misplaced. I think that I ready did get what I was hoping for, it just seems that you can't hold onto it forever. You have to move on to new things. I am feeling more ready than ever before.Once valued possessions are now clutter and I am ready to let go of the past that these possessions hold. I will be able to find those memories in my mind. It is a nice feeling.
    778 Posted by Ann Teve
  • The Canadian spring holiday (the "May 24th Weekend", a name that coincides with the number of bottles of beer in a case (a  "two-fer") and typically purchased by the celebrants of this weekend who spend it in tents, in the rain, in our provincial parks in an intoxicated state) has just passed. It was a cold weekend. It rained. It was a melancholy weekend. This transformation of my soul is strange. From moment to moment I am unsure of what I am feeling. I couldn't have predicted the costs of my transition, the changes to my life. There are moments when the future looks absolutely barren and lonely. I am frequently scoring the losses against the gains and wondering at my determination to continue.In many ways, my transition is now invisible. I don't think about dressing in the morning, I don't think about being 'on display' at work. Its all very normal and routine. I still get puzzled looks and the odd 'sir'. I am  mostly indifferent to this now. I'm still conscious of what I wear and am slowly learning some fashion sense with the help of my friends.I am changing in personality. I am becoming softer. I know that doesn't make much sense. I have been patronized by men now, often when I offer insights they don't expect 'from a woman'.I am coming to terms with the loss of family and my wife. Sometime in the next month the final decree arrives and a significant chapter of my life is over. With the time that has passed I can see the good of that time and that it was a good time for both of us. I think that my life has followed what was really in my heart and my sadness over 'the things I didn't do' is misplaced. I think that I ready did get what I was hoping for, it just seems that you can't hold onto it forever. You have to move on to new things. I am feeling more ready than ever before.Once valued possessions are now clutter and I am ready to let go of the past that these possessions hold. I will be able to find those memories in my mind. It is a nice feeling.
    May 21, 2008 778
  • 16 May 2008
    If you've ever sailed on the Great Lakes of North America or offshore into an ocean, you'll know that it takes forever to leave the sight of land. In a sailboat, it can even take the better part of a day before the shore surrenders to the water's horizon and is lost from view. Equally, approaching a shore can take some time -- an endless time it might see -- from that first horizon's smudge, through indistinquishable features squinted at through binoculars, to the slowly rising height of the land, to textures and trees, the odour of land and finally its noises, but in all it takes a very, very long.I am, it seems, still heading away from my male shore. I am going through some changes that are imperceiveable to me and quite obvious to others. I don't feel female, I feel a great clod towering over the girls I work with. I am continually surprised by conversation. It seems I am  accepted far beyond my feelings. I am engaged in conversations about periods, bloating, men, how much sex is or isn't enjoyed and the quality of lovers. Honestly I don't ask for this and am agape at how freely, casually but urnestly these conversations flow.I'm told by the girls in my support group that I am very lucky to have made the genuine girl (gg) girlfriends I have. I do enjoy their company and with my best friend Mel, we have been shopping. She's got great style and taste and has helped me a lot.Short of receiving the confirming document, I presume that I am now divorced. Its a miracle that I can even write that -- as recent a two weeks ago, the thought would send me into tears. Live moves on, I guess.I still not ready emotionally for proper employment and wonder if it would be possible to be hired. I'm 55 (early retirement age), trans, bi-polar, and for most of my career, self-employed. That's a lot to swallow for any company.I'm now considering a Master's Degree in Social Work. I was in to the college and received a very positive evaluation. I was thrilled -- much more that the idea of going back into the business world.Perhaps there is a smudge on the horizon after all.
    647 Posted by Ann Teve
  • If you've ever sailed on the Great Lakes of North America or offshore into an ocean, you'll know that it takes forever to leave the sight of land. In a sailboat, it can even take the better part of a day before the shore surrenders to the water's horizon and is lost from view. Equally, approaching a shore can take some time -- an endless time it might see -- from that first horizon's smudge, through indistinquishable features squinted at through binoculars, to the slowly rising height of the land, to textures and trees, the odour of land and finally its noises, but in all it takes a very, very long.I am, it seems, still heading away from my male shore. I am going through some changes that are imperceiveable to me and quite obvious to others. I don't feel female, I feel a great clod towering over the girls I work with. I am continually surprised by conversation. It seems I am  accepted far beyond my feelings. I am engaged in conversations about periods, bloating, men, how much sex is or isn't enjoyed and the quality of lovers. Honestly I don't ask for this and am agape at how freely, casually but urnestly these conversations flow.I'm told by the girls in my support group that I am very lucky to have made the genuine girl (gg) girlfriends I have. I do enjoy their company and with my best friend Mel, we have been shopping. She's got great style and taste and has helped me a lot.Short of receiving the confirming document, I presume that I am now divorced. Its a miracle that I can even write that -- as recent a two weeks ago, the thought would send me into tears. Live moves on, I guess.I still not ready emotionally for proper employment and wonder if it would be possible to be hired. I'm 55 (early retirement age), trans, bi-polar, and for most of my career, self-employed. That's a lot to swallow for any company.I'm now considering a Master's Degree in Social Work. I was in to the college and received a very positive evaluation. I was thrilled -- much more that the idea of going back into the business world.Perhaps there is a smudge on the horizon after all.
    May 16, 2008 647
  • 08 May 2008
    I got 'baked(1)' last night. I needed it.  It might seem out of character but character was the issue of the day. Who exactly (or even inexactly) am I?The day started well enough. I was on time to work and ready to do a small product presentation. D (a cashier with a complexion of high colour) approached me. She was the pinkest I'd ever seen her. She was tentative. How, she asked, should she deal with  person asking, "So what's the deal with the guy in the wig?"  Well that hurt, feeling that punch of heat one gets just below the center of one's rib cage. I shrugged and appologized for the discomfort she had felt."Say nothing or just tell them I'm transgendered." I choose that word because it has less viseral impact on people outside our community.Later, speaking with the assistant manager it turns out that there are frequent comments made to the cashiers, most positive, some negative and some lauding Lee Valley for its support of the Trans community. I had to feel good about that.It left me wondering, though, what exactly it is that I am doing. I am imperfect and incomplete. I have very serious doubts that I'll ever be able to afford the full path of transition and that is a fate that I'm not sure where I know how I feel.The credit limit on my card has been increased so I was able to take my gg friend out for a drink. We sat on a patio in the setting sun. It was nice. The wine was good (Pinot Grigio) but I realized that I'm not dressing in fashion. That was enough to have me worrying. And that is a silly reason to worry. After a glass of wine and a few smokes (I absolutely don't know why I've picked that up, but I have. I have to carefully watch my friend and copy how she holds her cigarette.) we went pack to her place. Given that she was feeling blue, we lit up (see above) and, that being the end of further conversation, I offered to stroke her hair. She loved it and nearly fell asleep, for me it awoke some very surprising feelings. I don't think I know who I am anymore.I hindsight today, I realize that I am starved for physical affection of any sort.My emotions have been so stifled by relations, personal fear and medication that their presence now is a discomforting surprise.(1) The contemporary term for wasted, stoned, high, lit.
    705 Posted by Ann Teve
  • I got 'baked(1)' last night. I needed it.  It might seem out of character but character was the issue of the day. Who exactly (or even inexactly) am I?The day started well enough. I was on time to work and ready to do a small product presentation. D (a cashier with a complexion of high colour) approached me. She was the pinkest I'd ever seen her. She was tentative. How, she asked, should she deal with  person asking, "So what's the deal with the guy in the wig?"  Well that hurt, feeling that punch of heat one gets just below the center of one's rib cage. I shrugged and appologized for the discomfort she had felt."Say nothing or just tell them I'm transgendered." I choose that word because it has less viseral impact on people outside our community.Later, speaking with the assistant manager it turns out that there are frequent comments made to the cashiers, most positive, some negative and some lauding Lee Valley for its support of the Trans community. I had to feel good about that.It left me wondering, though, what exactly it is that I am doing. I am imperfect and incomplete. I have very serious doubts that I'll ever be able to afford the full path of transition and that is a fate that I'm not sure where I know how I feel.The credit limit on my card has been increased so I was able to take my gg friend out for a drink. We sat on a patio in the setting sun. It was nice. The wine was good (Pinot Grigio) but I realized that I'm not dressing in fashion. That was enough to have me worrying. And that is a silly reason to worry. After a glass of wine and a few smokes (I absolutely don't know why I've picked that up, but I have. I have to carefully watch my friend and copy how she holds her cigarette.) we went pack to her place. Given that she was feeling blue, we lit up (see above) and, that being the end of further conversation, I offered to stroke her hair. She loved it and nearly fell asleep, for me it awoke some very surprising feelings. I don't think I know who I am anymore.I hindsight today, I realize that I am starved for physical affection of any sort.My emotions have been so stifled by relations, personal fear and medication that their presence now is a discomforting surprise.(1) The contemporary term for wasted, stoned, high, lit.
    May 08, 2008 705