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The Look of Revelations

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    What follows are just observations of my coming out experiences since October 19th, 2007, my first day of work as Ann and my first day of going full-time. I've included this in the Coming Out Forum feeling that coming out has many stages all of which are a form of declaration to someone -- family, acquaintance or stranger -- of who you are.

    My coming out has been a very protracted affair, perhaps going back so far as those first personal moments of insight about myself when I realized there was 'something different' about me, the struggle of self-acceptance following each self-discovery and that moment where hearing, reading or thinking those words, "I'm transsexual." took hold and became a public statement, not only in word but in action.

    Admitting to myself -- coming out to myself -- happened in dim, quiet solitude of the stacks of the library of the University of Waterloo. It was a tearful moment, heartwretching but certain as I realized that the articles I read were really about me, not some condition of some stranger. It was a coming out because who I really was escaped the bonds of denial for the first time. As much as I felt I died somehow at that moment and cried over the loss of who I thought -- wished -- I was, somewhere in side, I knew that it was an admission of truth and the first step in the path of self-actualization of who I now could admit I really wanted to be. These moments mark your soul and spirit is some permanent way -- for good or ill -- which I wouldn't realize for many, many years. In that profound moment, I saw in my mind's eye a different person, whose path had been exposed and laid before, a path I doubted I could follow, complete or survive.

    Admitting to my wife that I was a transvestite was another moment of coming out. It was an poorly thought admission at an an inauspicious moment of our relationship and forever changed our relationship from that moment. I think I saw love crushed. I saw hurt greater than any I had ever inflicted on anyone else and here on the one I most loved, the only one I had connected with. We were preparing for bed after a day of emotional estrangement and distance and it crushed her. I would never be able to take the hurt of that moment back. Who I was to her was immutably changed. This would be the first experience of profound loss that I would feel. The distance between us that my 'secret' had posed in my mind was crushing replaced with the realization that who I was could never be acceptable to her. Now this isn't about the right or wrong of the feelings of those we tell, it is simply about the consequence of our actions. She would try, over time, to refind our relationship but ultimately it would never happen and we would spend -- I can't say waste -- four years trying.

    Admitting to my mother of being trans -- first as a crossdresser -- was met with stoic acceptance and support. I could see in her eyes the quiet contemplation of me, of deep love and compassion and concern. There was confusion and uncertainty but it was all embraced in her love for her child. I was her favoured child and however I changed in my appearance she could always see my soul. She would save me.

    Admitting to my brothers and sisters of being transsexual was born again of desperation and despair, the collapse of my whole world, my marriage, my career and my soul. I could see in their eyes, disbelieve, sadness and caring. Each admission, each tentative step toward a destination that grew clearer and clearer to me and I knew in my heart of hearts to be right, I denied. It just seemed that once on this path, denial was the poison that I had to resist to live. And yet, knowing this, I continued to sip from this same cup.

    Admitting to my doctor of being transsexual, accepting the tests, allowing doctors and therapists to consider and one day, palm open with the pills that would lead to physical change, I finally admitted to the physical changes that I wanted. I saw possibilities and searched for hope to realize them.

    Admitting to you all the trials of my path, I saw love and support, understanding and compassion, shared courage and hurt, hope and despair, success and failure, personal loss and personal liberation and joy. I found friendship in the eyes of those who regarded me. I felt love and friendship in return, but still my world was limited to my life here and words and admissions I had made to others.

    Coming out is admissions and acceptance over and over of onesself each time growing and changing in some way. My coming out is like the wavering flickering Northern Lights, no shape or colour the same from one moment to the next but there with an ethereal cracking of the energy of hope that drives it.

    Coming out is not the reconstruction of my soul and self but the reconstruction of the places I occupy to that which will nuture me, allow me to be, allow me to grow, allow me to thrive and once again contribute.

    Coming out to my neighbour released his secret, my vulnerability, my willingness to share, my inclusion of him in my true life, allowed him to say to me, "My boy is gay." and to find his own acceptance in that.

    Finally, there was the admission to my employer -- albeit a temporary job -- of who I really and the looks of surprise, query and finally acceptance. I have been most fortunate in circumstance that I had a job I could accept losing if it happened -- but didn't -- and one that placed me squarely in the public eye.

    For the months of November and December I presented each day at work as Ann, facing dozens and dozens of customers and the unique regards each gave me. I was saturated each day by the different receptions, I heard "ma'ams" and "sirs", "him" and "hers" until it no longer mattered. Somewhere in all of this all the momentary personal revelation of who I was by each individual seemed to merge into one great insight that who I was was me and it was good and only how I felt of my self truly mattered.

    This revelation came home to me yesterday at the conclusion of our staff meeting. K revealed that he had prostate cancer and would under surgery within days. It had been a long year for him to come to terms with this and all its possible implications. Later as I was putting on my overcoat in the lunchroom, he came over to me.

    "I want to tell you how you've inspired me, Ann." he said. "To see the struggle you've been through, to see you accept who you are and have the courage to act and be who you are every day, I hope I take some of that courage with me." He looked at me and shook my hand. I was so surprised at this revelation.

    Life is the barter of dreams for memories.
      January 9, 2008 8:15 PM GMT
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    Ann I'm sure writing this took a lot out of you. Self analysis is rough. Thanks for sharing
    hugs
    Gracie
    <p>If it isn't fun - don't do it.</p>
      January 10, 2008 2:54 AM GMT
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    Hey Ann!

    Thankyou for sharing your story. You write incredibly well and I hope you're either active in or considering a career using the written word......

    Between the day to day detritus of each of us becoming 'us' we often see - or believe we see - negative attitudes. I mean that very broadly. As we walk down the street, feeling incredibly self-conscious, wearing make-up in public for the first time, or more feminine attire, or whatever. We feel the world looking at us, judging us and we fear that judgement is not good.

    The final paragraph of your post was truly beautiful. So often we think those that see us judge us harshly, and yet here was a work colleague who took so much from your change. And it reminded me that we all affect people and often don't realise or know it. If your colleague had'nt mentioned how you inspired him, you would'nt know [obviously] but the inspiration would still have been there. Still have existed for him - and no doubt countless others!

    Big hug hunni.

    Much love

    Rae xx
    www.raekelcou.com
      January 13, 2008 5:16 AM GMT
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  • Hi Ann,
    Somehow I missed this post back in January, but reading it today brought a smile to me.
    Thank you for sharing your journey and a big congratz on enduring so far. Hopefully someday,
    your family will come to terms with the real you (ANN), but until then I pray that those around you now
    will continue to be accepting of the person you really are.

    How is the person w cancer doing now?

    Hugz from a sister,
    Michelle Lynn

      March 21, 2008 10:11 PM GMT
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