The Merry-Go-Round: A Relationship

   Damn, it's early yet in April and I am already writing my fourth Blog of the month! I have been hit hard this month and it seems to only be getting worse. My life here at home is growing increasingly worse as my mother retreats further into her own little world. Treating me like crap in the process.
   I am practically a stranger she can turn her nose up to now. I believe that is how her mind is seeing it. Her friends in her computer game are closer to her heart than me. Her own child.
   A verse from a song pops into my head. It's from a Hymn from church, "Has given me a Earthly Home with Parents Kind and Dear." Parents, I never had those not in the general sense. As children when that conversation would arise of, "I have a mommy and daddy," I had to respond I only had a mommy. Back then that confused my peers and they asked questions I just couldn't answer. Like, where was my daddy? I only said I didn't have one. For a time I honestly believed I was found under a cabbage leaf in the garden out back.
   My Mother had issues of her own. She didn't know how to be a mother and she never learned how to be one. Her idea of being a good mother was taking me to get fast food and the toy that came with the meal. Which was something that affected my health and my mentality growing up.
   At about the age of eight my therapist and hers told her to leave home. She somehow got it in her head that meant a whole other state! I remember crying begging her not to go and to take me with her. I wanted to go on this trip to. She left and I rarely saw her for a few years. The therapists only meant into her own apartment. I don't know how she made the leap of it being another state. I can only think of one reason. She wanted to get away from me.
   By the age of eleven my Grandmother felt I should be living with my Mother again. I admit excitement at the prospect of living in another state and getting out of Utah. However things were different there. My mother worked nights at the hospital and slept during the day.
  Pretty much that was the next few years despite me going into foster care for a couple of them. My relationship with my mother in Washington was depressing. My family back in Utah met and decided I needed to get away from that. My mothers reaction when she told me was one of the few emotional caring moments I have ever witnessed or remember between us.
  Twelve years ago as we skip over a portion of my life. I came out as Transgender to my mother for the first time. The next morning my Grandmother was immediately at our door to talk to me. Being LDS and Transgender in my mind was taboo back then, a big No No! I believe my Grandmother answering my Mother's call meant, Stop the train! Pull the emergency brake! However I stuck to the tracks for a time and kept moving.
  I remember talking to my mother about me and who I was back then. About how she was feeling about it and how she would feel if I went all the way. She told me,"Your my child I love you no matter who you are or become or what you do."
   Coming back to the present I should have seen this treatment heading my way. It's a merry-go-round relationship with us. It always comes around again only faster with each spin. Things begin to blur and eventually you become sick and need to get off. Yes that perfectly describes the Mother Daughter relationship I have always had with her. As Visibly Me Maxine Marie I suppose it's time to get on another ride. Perhaps I will try the Roller-Coaster!

I am Trans and I am Mormon....

  My name is Maxine, I am Transgender, and I am Mormon. I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I was born, baptized, and raised Mormon. I knew by faith I had a testimony of the church, its leaders, Joseph Smith, Christ, and God. However I also knew I was different from the other youth attending church. I was born in the wrong body.
   I didn't know how to communicate at such a young age what I was feeling. What I knew. I remember as little kids when we would talk with each other in primary. The girls would say I going to be a mommy some day. The boys would say I going to be like my daddy. I would think to myself, "I don't have a daddy, but I want to be a mommy." I never spoke this out loud at least to my memory and knowledge. I am sure if I did the Primary teacher would of corrected me and spoke to my Grandmother and Mother about it.
   I have gone over in other blog's about signs I was different growing up. I won't bring them all up here. There is one though that jumps to mind. One while I am in childhood that has always been ingrained in my memory. It concerned clothing, church attire.
   I remember standing in a white shirt, slacks, and my clip on tie. I was at one of the entrances inside the church building. I don't remember if it was before or after, most likely after for everyone was standing around talking and us kids were running around the halls. I was zoned out and observant in this moment, an occurrence that happened at times throughout my life. I watched as girls blew by me in their dresses and skirts. Free and unhindered. While the boys stride was limited do to their dress pants, and their ties flying into their faces. As I continued to look about me I also noticed the adults. They were standing around talking. The women again in dresses, skirts, blouses. Relaxed unless they were trying to control the children running about. The men whether they would admit it or not seemed too hot in their suits. They looked as if they were gasping their last breath and about to asphyxiate. I came to when my name was called I remember that. Before we left I thought, "I won't grow up like those men." I made myself a promise I wouldn't that I would stop it anyway I could. For that was an unacceptable future one I just wouldn't be able to stand. I must be a free me!
  Well like all children in the church you grow older and graduate from Primary. For the boys you become a Deacon. I remember I wasn't really all that excited about becoming one. I didn't like the change imposed upon me. White shirt and Tie was mandatory, and I couldn't get away with a clip on anymore. It began to scare me that I wasn't going to be able to halt it! I had made myself a promise. I won't grow up like those men on that pulpit and sitting in the seats that I passed the sacrament to. I was helpless.
  It was this point in my life I started praying to God. I prayed over and over for him to change me. To make me a Girl. Every night I would do this. Explaining to him why, pleading to him! The next morning I would wake disappointed and at times in tears.
  Before I knew it I was shaving and a Priest in the church. Now I was Blessing the Sacrament. In Priesthood I was being taught how to treat Women. To prepare for a Mission. I was also being taught to one day be a loving and caring Husband and Father that could provide for the family.
  This was all wrong too me. Sure I wanted a family of my own just not this way. I didn't want to be a loving caring Husband and Father. I wanted to be a loving, caring Wife and Mother! I didn't want to serve a mission though I had pressure from family to serve one. It was all wrong to me and my promise to myself was officially and utterly broken.
  I went to Job Corps after that. I wanted my High School and that was the only option for me to get it. I was warned by my Bishop to remember who I was. That too many youth go there and forget and fall away. Perhaps I took his warning to heart for I came out as Transgender for the first time in my life there.
  It was out in public now. Even if it was a closed campus, but two hundred plus students now knew. After a few weeks I had the gumption and guts worked up to tell my Mother. She didn't take it so well, and the next morning my Grandmother was there to "talk" to me.
  I remained out as Transgender and Me while I was at Job Corps surrounded by those supportive friends. After Graduation was another matter. I felt forced into my Bishops office. Things he said made me feel guilty. I tried to be a faithful church member after that. However I no longer felt comfortable there. I felt comfortable no where. I stopped attending.
  A few years would pass and I would make attempts online to contact Transgender community's from time to time. The Bishop's words would always come back and haunt me and I would stop and cut off contact again. Other times I would try and attend church see how old friends were doing. They were happy and I was not. They were moving forward and I was not. They were themselves, and I was not.
  It was around this time that my Home Teacher and former Adviser of the Priest Quarm started coming around. He began Shepherding me back into the church slowly. Eventually I started getting lessons to prepare for the Higher Priesthood. I had been attending church, and reading my scriptures over and over. I worked with the Bishop and when the time came I was ordained. I was an Elder. I still wasn't happy though my family was. At the time I figured that was all that mattered.
   To get into the temple I had to have a job and pay tithing. I strove towards that goal. With all my might I put in effort. I never made it. Oh I made efforts to get a job, but a seizure disorder had other plans. It was a sudden onset. Hit me in the car while I ran a stop sign unconscious and crashed into two others full throttle at rush hour on state street.
  Took them six months to figure out what was wrong with me. For four-five of them I did nothing but lay in a stupor on the couch. Doped up and content to be doped up. I didn't want to to feel anything. Even then I received pressure from Church and Family to get a job. Even while I was passing out in church falling over barely missing chairs and desks and pews.
  A few years later I had moved out of that ward. Church was harder for me to attend where I now lived. I started thinking about God. I started thinking about my Life and all that has happened in it. I became angry, and I blamed the bastard! It really didn't help that a couple years after my move I was enrolled into a school that was founded on Mormon values and Morals. That place was about as Molly as you could get!
  The term Molly Mormon is used at least here in Utah to describe the zealous. Those people who are so obsessed with the church they let it rule their entire lives to the point that it even goes against it's teachings at times. For example when I got there slanderous rumors were still being spread around about a former student that hadn't been there in years! A former Gay student. It took a few months but I found out through overhearing a conversation I wasn't meant to. That those rumors were started by certain staff there. I thought nothing of it at the time, but I did spread around what I had heard. That rumor didn't get told all that often anymore after that.
  It was here at this place I came to a decision at last. I needed to come to terms with my Identity. I told my therapist there I was at a fork in the road. One future leads to Church and Family. The other Estrogen and Gender Reassignment Surgery. I knew though I had to explore the Transgender side of me. I had to get information. I had to speak to others! I can't just live it without doing that.
  So I found a support group to attend. I learned much and reevaluated everything I had thought about before concerning my Gender Identity. Eventually I came to the conclusion despite what the Church thinks and believe this is me. There are things not set in stone. I still hated God at that time. Began to despise him at this point for adding Gender Identity to the list of things going on in my life.
   You see believe it or not I love my Religion. That was taken from me. That is not my choice and I don't believe it is God's. At least not entirely. I do believe it was his words that set it in motion. The Twelve and the Members of the Church did the rest and it will be on they're heads. I cannot comfortably attend nor can I partake of its services even if I live a good life. I guess I do hate my Religion. It is a Love/Hate Relationship.

  It is only now today that I have finally come to make peace with God. I don't know how long it will take to make peace with the Church. I don't know how long it will take for me to pick up the scriptures again and read them with a open heart and contrite spirit. I don't know how long it will take for me to pray every night before bed again. I do not know. I only know that I have knowledge in the fact I am me, and God knows it. And with the peace I have made with him today I have a Testimony that God will not condemn his daughter Maxine Marie Wright.
   

A Family Pioneering....

   I always believed that when the year nineteen hundred hit things in America were changed forever. They were instantly different from the eighteen hundreds. That the west was tamed, everyone had a automobile, streets were paved, and all the major cities were built. I don't know how or why I developed these concepts. Perhaps it was the movies or reading about it in school. I don't know. I do know this I was wrong.
  In the year nineteen hundred people were still crossing the plains on their own two feet if they had to. In the west most streets were dirt even in many major cities. Many towns and cities were still tent towns back then.
   What really blows my mind for a loop is, out here in the west I had family. Family living in one of those tent towns. Pioneering and carving out a life for themselves and their family and future generations to come. Family my Great Grandmother would sometimes tell a story or two about because she knew them. My Grandmother she knew a few of them as well when she was a girl. These people have become legends, heroes to me.
  Back then not sure exactly the year. My Grandmother does. My Great Great Grandfather Lee Mecham lived in one of those tent towns called, Duchesne Utah. He was a striking young man, kind and charitable or so I am told. Perhaps he could have had his pick of any young lady in the area if he had a mind to. However it was Jessie Bernice Peterson that somehow caught his eye.
   She was pretty much the only one in the area educated enough to teach the young. So she became Duchesne's first School Teacher. She lived in a small cabin with her parents and two brothers. Her brothers slept outside on a box spring, the cabin being too small to fit them all. I suppose I could see why Lee Mecham loved her. She was quite beautiful and the west had given her a tough spirit. Personally I believe the tough spirit is genetic. Our family history being what it is and all.
  Well young Lee Mecham would court beautiful Jessie Bernice Peterson at her families cabin. In those days that was the way of things. On his way home he would find her brothers had put molasses on his saddle. They didn't approve of him, and he never complained. Eventually they were married and started a family of their own.
  One story I remember being told to me. After they were married they homesteaded along the Green River. Now Her brother's, and parent's each homesteaded a section down river. Can't remember what Lee was doing either homesteading another section or attending the cattle. But she had to tend a section by herself for a time. There was still problems in the area with the local Indian Tribe so she slept with a rifle under her pillow every night. She knew how to use it too! A tough spirit.
  Grandpa Mecham died in the nineteen forties of a massive heart attack. They had company over and were sitting around telling stories and jokes. He through up his arms like he was about to give out a huge laugh but it never came. I hear tell of people who showed up at his funeral thanking the family for him. People no one in our family knew or had only seen around town. People he had done spur of the moment favors for or helped out occasionally. That was just the kind of man he was, the kind of person I would inspire to be.
   My Grandmother told me she asked Grandma Mecham (Jessie Bernice Peterson) years later why she never remarried. She told her that he was the only man for her. I guess when you have had the love of your life No one else can live up to those standards.
   Grandma Mecham died in the nineteen seventies. She had crossed the plains in a covered wagon and had lived to see man walk on the moon. To have seen the things she has seen in her lifetime. To see the world change around her. I have to wonder just what did she think about it all?
  I do know these stories and photos have giving me a whole new perspective on time, life, and change. Thing's may happen quickly like the industrial revolution or things may stay the same like using a plow for the  last two thousand years or more. I also know it wasn't those things that mattered. It was the people and experiences that were encountered as time, life, and change moved things forward. That's what I Visibly Me Maxine Marie know.

Cute? Me? Huh?

   Cute is a term I never thought people would associate with me. I grew up encased in a very shy shell perceiving myself ugly and therefore ugly to the world. I was never comfortable with myself because I wasn't myself. So how is it now I am suddenly an object of Men's attention?
  I know it is something to do with my recent photos of myself. People have been telling me I look good, pretty even. I don't always agree, but sometimes I see a glimmer of beauty come through.
  I use to daydream when I was young what would it be like to be them. Them being the girls I saw at school. A boy telling me I was pretty in my ear, and if I liked him enough perhaps a kiss as a reward on the cheek. But mostly I just wanted to be able to laugh, joke, talk, and even cry as a girl with a group of friends at the lunch table. I suppose that sounds kind of sappy to some of you, but that was me back then. It was all that kept me going even though I knew deep down that would never be able to be.
   Here I am now though years later. I won't mention how many, and things are quite different. I have been on Hormone Replacement Therapy for little over a year now. Many changes have taken place. Biologically, Emotionally, Mentally, and Spiritually for the better. However I don't think my mind was ready to cope just yet with, Men.
   I have been telling people I am concerned with my Identity first and foremost. My Orientation I tell them when they ask will have to wait in line when my Identity has finished working itself out. That is just it though isn't it. One's Identity is always evolving, growing and moving forward. I can't make excuses anymore about my Orientation. Not in light of recent encounters and more that are likely to follow.
  Recent encounters. Yes encounters as in plural, as in I have had more than one so far. Men have been opening up chat with me on Facebook. Usually it was someone that sent a friend request months ago, and we had friends in common. However I never heard anything from them until that chat box popped up on my screen.
  They start out innocent enough and introduce themselves and say how we haven't really interacted all that much. Though a red flag is raised when after the introduction they immediately say you are so beautiful Maxine. They ask about my transition and again tell me how beautiful I am. I humor them a little by giving nonspecific details and information about myself. Frankly by this point they have already begun to creep me out. The info I give them seems to satisfy them somewhat however they soon get around to wanting to meet me and visit with me in person. I am in no way cool with that!
   During one of these recent encounters I saw a friend online and sought her out as a lifeline. I popped up another private chat window with her and told her what was happening. I asked her "What am I doing to attract this?!" She only responded,"Your cute, people see it." Huh?! Not to mention blush!

   Cute? I will say it again a term I would never think people would associate with me. I have had people tell me even before I started HRT that I will be a pretty girl. I couldn't believe them at the time. Not sure I am entirely ready to believe them now. After all all I am really seeing right now is but a glimmer of beauty in my photos or when I look in the mirror.
   It took me thirty years to get to this point in my life. Thirty years to come to grips and start becoming me. How long will I go before I come to grips with the rest of the world and being Visibly Me Maxine Marie in it?

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.