Destinations......

   When one starts at point A on a map and travels along they expect eventually to arrive at point B. That is assuming that point A was the perfect place to start from in the beginning. For those of us in Transition we don't go from point A to point B and arrive at our destination. Oh no! We have to continue onward for a while longer in a roundabout route to get to the same point on the map of those who don't "need" to transition to feel comfortable in their own skin.
  I was not born Biologically a Girl, but I knew in every aspect of my being I was one from the beginning. Beginnings to Destinations. A lifetime journey of heartache, mental anguish, soul searching, and self discovery.      
    I've watch female friends and family as we traveled through life go from point A to point B. Let's call it Growing  Up. While I had to travel a paralleled road. The wrong road! A dead end.
    My point B wasn't my destination it was Limbo Airport and my Flight was delayed, cancelled, Visa expired. I had to live in that Airport surviving anyway I could. I couldn't go back the way I came, no one can.
   Finally I managed to get a temporary Visa and found a flight out of there but only to land at Purgatory Airways. Point C on my map, and while I still had my Visa I couldn't go any further.
   New concepts came my way here, and I left the Airways from time to time to explore. However I always came back. I had no where else to go.
   Suddenly life there became cruel I had to get out and I bought a ticket. I didn't know where I just had to go. I boarded another plane and left point C and headed to Point D, backtracking a little bit in the process. That made things worse.
   Welcome to Happy Valley! A vacant eyed stewardess with a false smile said as I landed. The phrase was repeated to me many times while I was there, and I too became vacant eyed and had a false smile soon enough.
   Ten years I spent at Point D in a stupor. Ten years that turned Point D into a nightmare. Happy Valley's road sign would flicker in my eyes at times and I would start to seize, and fall to the ground only to wake up and groggily wonder what was going on.
   I moved down the valley to Point E at the end of those 10 years. Not much of a move but it made a big difference in my life. It made it worse. The people here weren't only vacant eyed, they were zealous with Happy Valley! I woke up to my surroundings at this point and the sign stopped flickering and Happy Valley's true name appeared. Hades.
   Hades, how did I end up here? Family and Friends trip's went by so easier than this. I am sure they had their own road bumps along the way, but I am also sure they didn't have to go beyond point B to get there. Now here I am at point E wondering what the heck to do now. Where do I go from here? I was so confused, and not only couldn't Happy Valley help me anymore it scared me.

   I sought answers to Happy Valley and what future it held for me. It was an empty hollow, dark, dirt road with nothing but wind blowing through the trees that over hung it like a tunnel. The trees were lifeless, another dead end.
  However there was another road nearby. It was paved, well lit, and showed promise of answering questions that plagued me. I knew where this road would possibly lead me, but I had spent fifteen years now in Happy Valley, Hades. I had to try something different, something I had not before. I took that first step.
  That first step lead to more steps for I was getting answers. I was changing. Then one day I was happy, for I realized on my own two feet I was getting to a final point on my map. The point friends and family called B, my point F. And when I get there I shall be Visibly Me Maxine Marie!

It Was The Little Things

   In hindsight looking back throughout my life it was the little things. The little signs that I was not like other boys. From certain behaviors that were stamped out of me. To even who I wanted to play with and what particular toy I wanted to entertain me while I did. I remember these things starting at a very young age.
    My first memories ever are around three perhaps four years old, and some of those memories associated with that time make it clear I was different. I remember speaking things around that time. Adopting certain words that seemed right to me to my own clothing. For the other word just didn't fit right in my head. I remember being told that my underwear was not panties and that only girls wear panties and that I was a boy. I know confusion reigned for that didn't feel right to me nor did it sit well. I knew the difference and I knew something was wrong but what? I also called my pajamas jamies and I preferred long shirts to wear if I could get away with it. I was comfortable that way. Time progressed and I got older.
    I had the usual toys any boy would have in his room. Hotwheels and action figures a few stuffed animals here and there. I was about five perhaps six. My favorite cartoon at the time was HE-MAN! I use to run around the house and yard shirtless with a plastic yellow wiffleball bat yelling I HAVE THE POWER! I am sure My Grandmother and Mother were not only amused but relieved. However the only action figures I ever received were the men from the cartoon. I never got Evil Lyn or any of the others, and oh I wanted them. What was more was He-Man had a twin sister SHE-RA! She was secretly my favorite. I really wanted her action figure and her flying horse!
   At that same age I hung out with many girls. The tragic cooties epidemic of the eighties hadn't hit yet. Little girls of course had BARBIES! When I played Barbies with them a Ken doll was always shoved in my direction. I had to say each and every time no I wanted a Barbie doll. I was asked why of course. My excuse, they had actual hair, and so many styles of clothing to switch out and dress up in. As I got older I suppose that got weirder and we all found other things to do. When the girls did play Barbies after that it was in another room and us boys came up with our own amusements.
   Back to clothing I remember throwing fits at having to wear ties. Frankly I never did like the whole white shirt thing. I was totally uncomfortable. I would remember seeing the girls, young women, and older women wearing skirts, dresses, blouses, and how free they seemed to move in them. All the men would stand like they were constipated or about to asphyxiate. I remember thinking I hope that I don't grow up like that. Perhaps that is where I began to perceived that suits are my prison. Specially as I did grow up like that and was forced to wear them.
   A few years later I was about eleven maybe twelve and living in Washington State. Puberty had hit and I was not really liking it. Oh I tried to show a bit of enthusiasm for the peach fuzz I was going to be able to shave. After all the other guys at school talked about growing beards and mustaches. Everyone wanted a goatee. I really wasn't that thrilled. I wanted to remain smooth skinned as I had been. I liked it.
  It was during this time I had a strange but vivid dream. What really stuck out at me was in this dream my foster sister stuck me into a dress. Thing was I wasn't embarrassed, it was me. She tried to make fun of me in the dream but I remember leaving the scene in the dress comfortable and fine as can be. It was this dream that had probably one of the biggest impacts on me.
  I took more notice of how I was changing versus the girls at school. It was all wrong. I felt a barrier go up in my head. I couldn't talk about this I didn't even know what it was. I just knew I was different somehow.
  It was a year maybe two later that I found the word Transgender. I also found the AOL Transgender Community. I was able to get a little information at that time. However this was the nineties and everything seemed so far out of reach and impossible for a young LDS boy to achieve one day.
   Its been many years later since then. I am little over a year into my Hormone Replacement Therapy. I am finally arriving at home in my own skin. I am becoming Visibly Me Maxine Marie.

Limited Limited

  I am down to three shirts, a single pair of pants, limited underwear, and four pairs of socks. That is the result of weight loss when it comes to clothing. My mother had been doing laundry and at the time of my walk it was done. I asked her to please change it over by the time I get back so I could put mine in. A simple and reasonable request under the circumstances. She said she would I was unsure about that considering she was hacking and slashing at things in her game on her computer.
  I left for my walk and found it to be snowing outside, I immediately came back inside and grabbed a second jacket. I told my mother about the snow and reminded her again about her laundry which again received a tedious response. I shrugged and left again for my walk into the snow.
  I did about three miles that day walking in the snow. It wasn't sticking on the ground thankfully but puddles were forming everywhere. I was quite cold and quite thankful by the time I got home. Not to mention soaked.
   When I walked in the house my mother was still hacking and slashing at beasts and monsters on her computer. No surprise there. I simply asked if she had switched her laundry out while I was gone. No came her reply. I'll do it in a minute she said. I replied please do I need to get mine in. Now at times like when she is at work I would of switched it out myself. However it takes only a couple minutes to take clothes out of a dryer put them in a basket and put the batch in the washer into said dryer. Ten minutes later she still had not gone in to do so. I reminded her again by saying Mom get your laundry so I can get mine in. She freaked and yelled at me and stomped up the hallway to do it. She said you have all day to do your laundry. I lost it and yelled back that I didn't have all day. I had no clothes to wear specially now that I had added my pants and jackets to the pile they being soaked. I told her just what my clothing options were which are listed up above. She at least did her laundry went back into her room and slammed her door. Believe she was more mad about the time lost from her game than having to do the laundry.
   As limited as my clothing is right now I really hope she does not get it in her head to take me shopping. She will not face my transition. Every time we are in a clothing store for me it's the men's department and I become depressed. It's like again, mom. Your going to force me to continue to live this way longer? Unhappy and discontent with myself. Not to mention dangerous to dress that way.
   Yes Dangerous! My transition has reached a point where continuing to dress even remotely as a man can get me into a lot of trouble. I know some will argue the reverse to be true as well. However I am more comfortable as a woman and appearing more and more as one.
   Everyday brings new noticeable changes in my Transition. With Spring here and weather sure to turn warmer shortly. I wont have an excuse to wear a jacket to cover up certain changes. It isn't really doing that now and I don't want to cover up these changes. I want to live!
   Perhaps if my mother sees me as me, if she takes her eyes off the computer screen long enough, she can come to acceptance finally. I however cannot spare her feelings on the matter and ignore mine. Right now I'm limited, stuck. I've got to move on specially since I am changing my name and gender marker shortly, and living comfortably full time as yourself is not only a requirement but a necessity. I'm trying but I only have so much to work with and only so many options available to me.
   Finding a job is even more difficult now than it was before. I am writing my book as I look for work and friends are keeping eyes open for me. However I will not get a job here in Utah County. I will not get stuck here of all places. Here where my friends worry about my safety and I worry well about the County in general. This is how things currently stand with Visibly Me Maxine Marie.

Between Me.....

  The County where I live I suppose is safe enough. If you conform to a certain Religious or Heterosexual lifestyle. Good place to raise a family if you fall into the above categories. However as I have stated and mentioned before I do not. I am Transgender and I am Transitioning.
  Lately it has been becoming more evident I am no longer Biologically just a Man. Physically I am appearing more and more each day how I have always felt inside. With the weight I have lost in recent months that becomes even more evident despite my clothes no longer fitting me.
   I remember a couple months ago becoming more aware of my surroundings. I would see men with hunched shoulders heads down. Obvious signs of low self-esteem something I use to have. I realized I was still carrying myself this way. That was not how I wanted to present myself, not anymore! I corrected it immediately. I lifted my head, stuck out my chest, and my posture took care of the rest!
   It was amazing how fast that became habit. I didn't have to think about it specially on my walks. I noticed I could walk faster that way get my heart pumping and burn more calories. Perhaps that is why. My body liked my new posture and it fit me.
   However, as my femininity become more apparent. I started getting strange looks from people. I wouldn't shave everyday or wear makeup. That probably didn't help. It hurt when I did so something I think is do to a worn out razor. But I am getting off track. Strange looks weren't all I was getting. Insults and Bigotry were shouted and thrown my way.
  I started to hunch my shoulders and bow my head again. I had to remind myself where I hadn't to before to keep my head up! I was afraid I can admit that. I still am. Last night in SLC I didn't have to remind myself about my posture it came naturally to me again. But than I was also fully me. Well as much as I was able to be with what I had to work with LOL!
   Looking back in the year and a half when I first walked onto that Pride Center property and attended that first Transgender Group. I am amazed at how far I have come and grown as a person! I am no longer the same person and yet I am. I know that sounds confusing but when I think about the person that I was back then. It's as if they were made from a different mold and it's been thrown away. Never to return!
  Here I am now about what I wanted to write this Blog about. Fear is apart of living no one can escape that. What one can do is not let it get the best of you. I know that living full-time will change much in my life. I've been preparing for it for awhile now. I am at that point in my life, the tip of the iceberg as I described it last night. I just have to step over it. My transition every day changes more and more about me pushing me forward and I need to step up and move with it.
   I have been in this limbo for what has seemed forever, and than BAM! Limbo is suddenly behind me yet for a while there I couldn't let go. I can let go now. I can be Visibly Me Maxine Marie!
 

Pertinent People Of My Past

   This is a Blog briefly touching basis on people who have had impacts on my Past, Present, and for some of them hopefully Future. Some as you will read have faded out of my life with time. Others still walk around or within it.
  Just like any beginning we go back to my early childhood. I think I was around three, and I had met my first friend. Her name was Megan, and we had a lot in common. For one we both had Care bears!
   What ever we were doing those Care Bears were at our side. A symbol of our friendship. Sometimes her little sister would play with us. We gladly included her at times depending on the game we were playing. However we were older and wanted time to play our own stuff by ourselves.
    A little time had passed and another family had moved in. Quite large to say the least and while they lived there they only got bigger. Though at the time they moved in they had only four children, and only one was a girl and around I and Megan's age.
    Our duo became a trio and our range of where we could play expanded. Always under the careful watch of one parent of other. After all we were only about four I would imagine. We lived in Orem a small city full of orchards. Our neighborhood was safe for young kids at least during the day. At night the teenagers were out of control with the night games.
   I remember our friendship remained solid through Kindergarten. At least mine and Megan's. The third party was very charismatic and had made other friends in which sometimes we would play too.
   By first grade Megan's dad had been promoted or found another job in Denver Colorado. I never really saw or heard from her again.
   By than the neighborhood kids in my area had formed sort of a pack. If we weren't in two's at one friends house. We were together playing hide n seek, kick the can, and other such games.
    Around that same time of the age of four or five I formed a friendship with another girl. This one my cousin.  Brittany. I remember when we would drive up to see them in SLC at their apartment being all excited. Oh sure my Aunt and Uncle were cool, but I liked hanging and playing with my cuz!
   There was a really cool intricate sandbox outside their apartment, at least neat in those days! We would be out there playing in the sand being all cool. The other kids had nothing on us.
   Don't remember exactly when, but a year or two later they were living with us while their house was being built. So I may have lost touch with one friend, but I had my cousin to play with now. Our schemes were fun and outrageous! Though our Grandmother always managed to appear if they were to dangerous or got out of hand. Years later at a combined Christmas, our parents were shocked as my cousin and I reminisced about those days.
   When they had moved into their new house. I once more got more involved with the neighborhood kids. I never cut off contact completely. In fact the family of the third party mentioned above was often included in fun and games with my cousin and I.
   Skipping ahead a bit to today. I walk by that old neighborhood often. I look at the old house. Much is different and much still the same. It feels sheltered from the hustle of the City just a short distance from its borders. Safe and naive of things to come.
   In Junior High I was in Washington State. There was a teacher Mr. Moore by name. I had a good relationship with him. Now while I didn't feel like wrestling was my sport I asked if I could be the Assistance Manger. He always had a student as such.
   This meant I cleaned the mats before practice and during if any nasty "incidents" occurred. I also had keys to the gym and other areas of the school. A great responsibility. On top of this, to prevent the Wrestlers from poking and making fun of me. He made it clear If I said extra laps, they ran extra laps. I might mention laps meant around the outside, than inside, and up and down the stairs of the school. I never had to use such authority.
  I also recorded the matches so the wrestlers could learn from them. And I did this throughout the Wrestling season. I guess I just didn't want to be at my Foster Home. Though they made me clean the huge pile of greasy dishes anyways when I got home. My homework suffered while their daughter talked on the phone continuously all night.
   By the end of the Wrestling season at the Pizza party Coach Moore called my name. He told the parents and other school staff there. This is Corey, he's been cleaning our mats of also sorts of "Nasty" things as well as recording our matches and other services. I promised myself I would not let another Assistance Manager go unrewarded for such hard work.  He handed me a School letter and Wrestling Pin in which there was much applause and cheering. Including from the Varsity.
   I was the first to receive a School Letter from my Junior High for Cleaning Mats lol. Though I don't think there was person in that room or at that school who thought it was not deserved. Mr. Moore later approached me and said that thanks to my good recordings, which at first I struggled to do, many wrestlers were able to improve their skills. That made me feel really good that I was able to help them in that way.
    By the time I was fifteen I was back in Utah. Living with a Aunt and Uncle and Seven Cousins. I made eight. Talk about a full house.
   The twins were only a year older than I was. I shared a room with them and I had always gotten along with them. Growing up we had come up with many adventures and in our teenage years this did not change.

   Our adventures in our High School years were elaborate childhood games. Playing tag at night in parks. There was one with large wood structures in shapes like volcanoes and rocket ships connected by bridges. Don't touch the ground or your Automatically it! The variations we came up with were imaginative and fun.
   Another favorite past time we got into was Laser Tag! We would head into down town Provo to CYBORG ASSULT! After a couple matches we would practically be out of money but satisfied.
   We shared however a common love of the arts though each of us expressed it differently. One was good in Drawing, the other music, I loved to write. What we really come together on was our love of gaming. We always wanted to develop our own game. These years however to me seemed safe and sheltered.
   Sitting here and looking back certain things have hit me. I have not had many empowering figures or role models in my life. I seem to judge future friends and mentors on those who have impacted my psyche the most.
   Some of those past relationships now sit on tedious or rocky ground. Both sides at fault. How do we talk? How do we break a tradition of silence in a family that refuses speak on such matters? I don't wish to let things slide and have them gnaw at us. I wish to put them behind us for good.
   Other relationships are gone. Faded into my past. While others only time will tell where they will take me. This has been a telling but brief look into the Relationships of Visibly Me Maxine Marie.