Finding Healing

A couple weeks ago I got away for the weekend to visit a wonderful friend who goes to school in the northern part of the state. I was excited to visit her, though I was uncertain about whether I would enjoy the cold, winter weather of that area. I am, after all, a desert rat, and despite my years living in Russia and other cold climates, I’ve come to think it’s cold when it’s in the 50s. Still, I was willing to take the chance for the opportunity to hang out with a friend. I’m glad I did, because it turned out to be a fantastic, fun, rejuvenating weekend, even though the temperature never got above freezing. In fact, it snowed twice during my visit and I loved it. My friend and I went outside the first evening and built a snow ballerina (we share a love of ballet) complete with tutu, before dancing around in the snow ourselves and remarking on the patterns our boots left as we danced down the freshly snow-covered sidewalk. I had forgotten how delightful winter can be.

The festive Christmas decorations in her campus apartment filled my heart with joy and delight as well. As I have written previously, the holidays have been a difficult time for me since I came out to my spouse just before Thanksgiving three years ago. Yet this year, the warm, positive holiday spirit my friend radiated worked magical healing on those old wounds. One evening we went downtown for the lighting of the city’s Christmas tree, walked around in the icy wind, drank hot cocoa, sang along to the Christmas tunes being played, and I felt a part of me come alive again. I returned home having decided that this year I would put up a Christmas tree, a decision strengthened by the knowledge that this was something very important to my daughter, who moved back home this summer.

I then had to wrestle with the question of how to decorate the tree. I have a box with old ornaments, but they carry a lot of difficult memories. Yet without them I would have a pretty bare tree. I decided that I will begin collecting new ornaments that celebrate my new life and my new friends. They will be ornaments that are significant to me, representing new memories and relationships. It will take time to build that collection. I started with buying a single ornament, to which a couple friends have added pieces. Each one brings joy to my heart.

The question of how to decorate the tree evoked a difficult emotional conversation with my daughter, for whom the old ornaments carry positive memories. Was I asking her to erase and forget the past? I explained that it was not my intention nor desire for her to erase the past. In fact, I don’t want to erase it myself. But I also don’t want painful memories called to the front of my mind. It’s a balancing act for me as an individual and putting up a Christmas tree now made it a balancing act for the two of us as we navigated our different experiences and feelings about all that has transpired in our family over the last few years. In the end I think we both understood one another better and we agreed that she could go through the old ornaments and select those that were significant to her, but would check in with me before hanging them to make sure they would not be too triggering for me. The result is a blended tree, one that still reflects elements of the past and the family we used to be, but which includes ornaments celebrating the person I am now.

It feels good to have this tree in our living room. It adds a warmth and cheer that has been lacking the past few years. I wasn’t ready for it then. I am this year. Each year, step by step, I find a bit more healing and am beginning to create new memories and traditions. I am finding ways to enjoy, even celebrate this season. The grief of the past three years hasn’t gone away. Instead it is being wrapped in layers of new experiences, new relationships, and new life that soften the pain. Slowly, this season is becoming delightful once again.

Strong Medicine

As I lay in bed this morning, letting the morning light filtering through my curtains slowly waken my senses to the new day, my mind reflected on the reasons I have to be grateful. Maybe the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday prompted some of these reflections, but I find it also emotionally therapeutic to stop regularly and remember all the reasons I have for gratitude. In this world, filled so often with negative news, with stress, and with the pressure to constantly feel like I’m not enough and my life is not enough, practicing gratitude is one of the most basic forms of self-care and at the same time a radical act of protest against the evils of this world.

I am grateful for the fresh scent of the incense burning in my room. I am grateful that I have a room, and a roof over my head, a place that is safe, secure, and comfortable (even if I’m out so much that I don’t spend that much time there!) I am grateful to my brother, who rents this place to me, who by his generosity gave me a place to land when my world disintegrated a couple years ago. I am grateful for my lavender and purple walls (if you know me, you won’t be the least surprised by that!) that create a soothing environment each day. I am grateful for the clothes I have to wear, and that I am able to wear the clothes I’ve always wanted to, clothes that make me feel beautiful. I am grateful for the comfortable bed I sleep in every night (thanks Magda!), and for the hours of rest I enjoy there.

I am grateful for my work. I am grateful to have a job where my work contributes to making the world a better place. That’s extremely important to me. I am grateful to work for an organization that has supported me through my personal journey since the day I walked in the door over two years ago. I am grateful that I work in an environment where we support one another. I am particularly grateful for the team of women I work with, for the energy we share, for our commitment to supporting each other and succeeding as a team. I am grateful for my supervisor, who has engaged with me to jointly create a positive dynamic between us. I appreciate that she empowers me and my teammates. I am grateful that I can get up each work day and be enthusiastic about going to work.

I am grateful for the opportunities I have to engage in transforming my community, working alongside some amazing people. I feel so fortunate to contribute my time and energy, not only at work but outside of it as well, to making the world, and my community in particular, a better, more inclusive and just place.

I am grateful for my health. I am grateful to live finally in a body I feel at home in, that in fact I really love for the first time in my life. I am grateful that I am able to engage in physical activities that I enjoy, like soccer and dance. I am grateful for my soccer teammates, a wonderful group of people who support and encourage each other each game regardless of the score. I am grateful for my dance studio, which has been one of my chosen families since I came out 3 years ago.

I am grateful for the warm, life-giving sunshine that fills most every day here in Southern Arizona. And I’m grateful for the occasional rains that refresh the land and my spirit as well. I am grateful for the window next to my workstation in our new office building that allows me to enjoy that warm sunshine and the beautiful sky.

When I think of the reasons I have to be grateful, more than any other I think of the friends who surround me. My mind often reflects on various friends, their faces bringing a smile of delight and filling my heart with joy. Not that long ago my friendship circle was nearly empty. Now it overflows with so many wonderful people. My gratitude knows no bounds when I think of all of you. You enrich my life. I am grateful for those who have laughed with me, cried with me, comforted me in grief, rejoiced with me, played with me, celebrated with me, encouraged and challenged and supported me more times than I can possibly recall. I am grateful as well for my family, for my parents and my children who have continued to stand with me through my transformation, knowing that it has impacted them as well. Words cannot begin to adequately express the profound depth of my gratitude to my friends and my family. I love you all so much.

Above all, I am grateful to be alive, to awaken each new day, to live and breathe, and to live fully and truly as myself in this world. I am grateful to live authentically and vulnerably. Life is a gift, one that I want to celebrate each and every day. And when the circumstances of a particular day draw me away from that, I want to recall these reasons I have to be grateful. Gratitude is such powerful medicine.

Representation Matters

On my rare, unoccupied evenings at home, I like to occasionally curl up on the sofa and watch Netflix. My current program is Glee. Yes, I’m that far behind the times. I started watching it a few years ago but never got beyond the second season. I don’t remember why I stopped watching it the first time, but I enjoy the mix of musical numbers and high school drama. I’m not really a binge watcher, so I’ve only made it into season 3 so far.

(If you are even farther behind in your shows than I am, spoiler alert.)

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Last night I watched the episode Dance with Somebody. This episode, a tribute to Whitney Houston, made me so happy. I find it beautiful that this series finally in a previous episode allowed Santana to openly embrace her lesbian identity. In this episode we see her romance with Brittany celebrated to Houston’s song “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” This alone delighted me. Even more, I rejoiced when the lyrics Santana and Brittany sing were modified to acknowledge the fact that they love each other as women. (I might also add that their dance number was quite hot.) Instead of the original lyrics they sing “I need a woman who’ll take a chance / on a love that burns hot enough to last” A small but highly significant difference. Representation matters.

I’ve wrestled with the lack of representation in the arts since coming to embrace my gender identity and sexual orientation. I grow weary of the perpetual focus on hetero-typical relationships, as if there are no others in the world. We are beginning to see small changes in this in television and movies, such as in Glee. Even there we are largely subjected to romances focused on a male and female character. When it comes to music, the absence of non-hetero romance is even more pronounced. How many songs do you know that celebrate the love between two men or between two women? I can’t think of any in the realm of popular music, and a friend of mine who is better versed in the music scene also couldn’t think of any. Which makes it necessary for us lesbians to queer romantic songs when we sing them, as Santana and Brittany did.

Last month I performed a couple songs for a karaoke night, including Gypsy by Lady Gaga. If you are heterosexual, you may not have even noticed that the song makes reference to a guy, making it another typical song about the relationship between a man and a woman. I wasn’t comfortable going on stage, even for a karaoke night, and singing about my interest in some dude. Not a chance. So I had to queer it. Thankfully it had few male pronouns and references, so it wasn’t hard to do, though I had to practice so my brain would override the help text displayed on the karaoke screen. Many other songs that I really like would be much more difficult to alter. When I hear them play I have to do the mental work to transpose the imagery from male-female to female-female.

You might think that I’m making a big deal out of nothing. If you are hetero-typical, you don’t have to think about how love and romance are portrayed in the arts, because your sexual orientation is already pervasive. You might find it jarring when something atypical is presented, such as a lesbian or gay relationship. If you are particularly conservative, you might even feel offended or protest being “subjected” to such portrayals. Do you realize that for those of us who are homosexual, this is what we endure all the time in media and the arts? Just the other day I went to a ballet performance. The show overall was a delightful compilation of original works by young choreographers, but even here the pieces that touched on romance or love all had a hetero-typical axis. How I’d love to see a ballet piece with powerful romantic tension between two women (or two men, though frankly that would interest me far less.) Recently I talked with a friend about how fun it would be to queer the musical The Sound of Music and have a transgender Maria who falls in love with a Countess. Oh for the day when a musical like that would be a Broadway hit.

Which is why seeing Santana and Brittany celebrating their love to the modified words of “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” delighted me so much. It’s a small but meaningful step in normalizing non-hetero romance. It doesn’t require the erasure of hetero-romance. That’s not going to happen. But society needs to make space for others who don’t fit within that narrative. The more we see non-hetero relationships and romance portrayed in film, music, and other art forms, the more they become recognized as normal and valid expressions of human love. Inclusion happens in part as people begin to recognize and affirm the humanity of people who are not like them. Someday, hopefully soon, I hope to hear hetero-typical people singing along to the lyrics of a song celebrating lesbian romance. That would make my heart sing.

Boldness, Shame, and Boundaries

Just a couple weeks ago life felt amazing. I attended a Women’s Leadership Conference with 500 other women (and a few men), and felt connected to my power as a bold leader. I was ready to conquer the world. This picture, taken at the event, captured my feeling well.

Then the New York Times broke the news on the 21st of the proposal by the federal government to redefine gender strictly on the basis of birth genitalia, strictly as male or female, and strictly immutable. This move would define myself and any other transgender or gender non-conforming individual out of legal existence as far as the federal government was considered. All hell broke loose in my community, and in myself. A shitstorm of immense proportions that knocked me off my equilibrium and overwhelmed my coping mechanisms.

I spent the following Monday trying to engage in numerous conversations within my local transgender community and our allies, discussing and coordinating our response, all while trying to fulfill the responsibilities of my paid employment and process my own emotional reaction. It was too much. I couldn’t cope. Part way through the day I went into my friend’s office and, with tears running down my face, acknowledged to her that I felt overwhelmed and inadequate to handle the intensity of emotions and the demands I felt on my time and energy. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was swimming in a sea of shame, shame that said “I’m not enough.” At a time when I most felt the need to be a leader in my community, I felt like an imposter. I felt inadequate to the task. And I felt ashamed to admit that to myself or anyone else. Shame. So much for feeling Bold AF. She gently counseled me to determine my boundaries and then hold them without shame, which I began to do.

Over the coming days I would continue to struggle with holding boundaries, balancing my engagement with my capacity in time and energy. And not adequately accounting for the impact on my own mental and emotional health. By Wednesday morning I felt defeated. Tears came as I sat at the table eating breakfast. My day had not even begun and my coping mechanisms were failing. At that point, amidst the numerous statements of support and solidarity with myself and my community on social media, only one person had actually reached out to me directly to ask how I was doing. I, on my part, had also not recognized my own need for emotional and mental support and had reached out only to one friend. The combination left me drained and feeling alone as I tried to navigate a wave of external pressure combined with my internal sense of being inadequate to deal with it. I needed to change the narrative. I rumbled with my shame and chose to reach out for the support I needed. Brené Brown in her latest book Dare to Lead reminds us that bold leadership requires vulnerability. A key aspect of vulnerability is acknowledging and naming shame, because only when we name it can we begin to address it.

“Shame,” she writes, “is the fear of disconnection—it’s the fear that something that we’ve done or failed to do, an ideal that we’ve not lived up to or a goal that we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection.”

In the context of this week, I experienced shame because I had expectations of myself and my ability to respond to the situation as a leader that were not realistic. I felt that I had an obligation to engage in every aspect of my community’s efforts to speak out against our erasure, but I failed to fulfill that obligation. I simply could not. I told myself that being bold meant demonstrating my ability to handle everything without wavering. It meant loading up on armor to prove my worthiness. But I don’t need to prove my worth, and I cannot do everything. I needed to clarify and hold my boundaries on what I could realistically do given the limits of my time and energy: physical, mental, and emotional. I needed to allow others to step up and lead. I needed to reach out and let people know what I needed from them. I needed to address the shame gremlins that said I am a failure because I couldn’t meet my own unrealistic expectations of myself.

When I reached the low point mid-week, I began to practice what Brown refers to as shame resilience. As I shared what I was experiencing with others, I was met with empathy, which began to eliminate the sense of shame I felt. As Brown writes: “If we share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive….because shame is a social concept—it happens between people—it also heals best between people. A social wound needs a social balm, and empathy is that balm.”

Acknowledging my need for support and being met with empathy, along with releasing the demands I was placing on myself to engage in everything allowed me to begin to regain my emotional and mental center. It gave me space to practice healthy self-care. I chose how and where to engage and let go of the false shame that told me I was an imposter if I didn’t step up to the plate in every situation. It enabled me to reclaim the truth that I am bold af, because being bold doesn’t mean I have to take on every challenge, and I certainly don’t have to do it alone.

By Friday, which was my birthday, I had reestablished a better balance. As I celebrated my day doing creative activities with a few close friends, my emotional and mental energy recharged. I won’t say I’m ready to take on the world, because I don’t have to. But I am ready to tackle those things I choose to focus my time and energy on, while holding better boundaries that enable me to keep going over the long haul. I read this poem by rupi kaur at precisely the right moment:

the road to changing the world

is never-ending

 -        pace yourself

In the end I was able to contribute my skill, time, and energy to one specific response to this threat. By focusing my engagement I was able to contribute in a meaningful and significant way without completely burning myself out. Today I saw some fruit from that engagement, and it felt very satisfying. I haven’t stopped this proposal, but I have contributed to a valuable conversation that I hope will ease the anxiety of a specific segment of the local transgender community, as well as promote an ongoing conversation to create a safe, more inclusive environment for the LGBTQ community at our local university. We all contribute where we are able.

The shitstorm continues to whirl around me. I still experience anxiety over the potential impact of this proposed redefinition. I feel the anxiety of my community as well, an anxiety that we find difficult to adequately convey to our cisgender allies. I believe and hope that the worst will not come, but regardless of what happens, I will strive to reject the shame of the unrealistic expectations and the fear I place upon myself of feeling that I have to prove my worth. I know my worth. And I know I have a great depth of internal strength to draw on. I also have a community of friends who stand with me and care deeply about me. I am not alone and will not be alone. In that there is amazing strength. And in that I find confidence that no matter how dark this storm gets, we will come out on the other side.  

Speaking Out for the LGBTQ Community

Last week, as I wrote previously, was my third coming out birthday, as well as National Coming Out Day. In celebration of that date, and in recognition of its 20^th anniversary, the Southern Arizona Gender Alliance threw a little party. This organization, which I am proud to be a member of, educates about, advocates for, and supports the transgender and gender non-conforming community across Southern Arizona and across the state. 

I was honored that night to deliver a speech affirming the significance both of SAGA’s 20 years and National Coming Out Day, which I share here for those who were not able to be present. 

I am proud to be transgender. I am proud to be a woman. I am proud to be a demisexual lesbian. For me it’s about the entire LGBTQ community, and I affirm the right of everyone to live authentically as their true selves and to love whomever they choose. I will not go back into the closet ever again.

Reflections on My Third Birthday

This past week marks three years since I first came out to the world. I’ve written about that day here. I consider it my second birthday, which makes me now three years old! (I also have my original birthday later this month, and now I have a rebirth day on March 5. This can be confusing when someone asks me how old I am or when my birthday is!)

A few days ago I received some news that really devasted me, ugly crying in the middle of my office devastating. I’m not going to share the specifics of what happened, but will summarize by saying that something I had really hoped for did not happen for very unexpected and frustrating reasons. I have eagerly pursued a personal and professional growth path for the past two years, and this felt like a real blow to my dreams.

After the initial disappointment settled, I began reflecting on this incident in light of my journey over the past three years. I realized that, without denying the feelings of disappointment, frustration, and anger that I felt, this presented only a speed bump in my life. While it was something I really wanted, not being able to do it, at least at the present moment, is not really a setback. I still have a full slate of opportunities to engage with my community and make an impact. This is pretty amazing, considering that just two short years ago I had only begun working in my new job and was constructing my social network from almost nothing. As one of my closest friends likes to remind me, I have come a long way in a short amount of time. I can show myself patience. I don’t have to accomplish everything right away. Two years ago I sought this friend’s counsel on how to identify opportunities to invest my time and energy. She wisely encouraged me to wait, to look for the areas that I felt most passionate about, and to see what developed. I was all ready to rush ahead and jump at the first opportunity that came along. Thanks to her wise advice, I find myself two years later fully engaged in organizations that align with my core values and passions, rather than frustrated that I had committed myself to things that didn’t really speak to my heart.

My drive to pursue every opportunity has developed as I came into my own self-confidence. I did not use to believe in myself. I didn’t challenge myself to go beyond what I thought I could do. I carefully guarded my time and energy and avoided committing myself to anything that might impinge on those. Above all, I didn’t believe in myself because I wasn’t connected with my true self. My fear of what others might think of me, of failure, and of rejection, fueled a lack of confidence, which in turn kept me from having vision and passion. I didn’t view myself as a leader and didn’t readily step into leadership roles. Just a few short years ago I would not have remotely envisioned myself doing most of the things I participate in now: nonprofit support, storytelling, dance, soccer, social leadership, public speaking, advocacy, and even karaoke (which I did again last week and had a blast!)

My drive also results from the deep sense that I have missed out on half of my life. Because I didn’t know and embrace myself, I didn’t use my time and energy to have the impact I now want and believe I can have on the world. I don’t consider my life prior to coming out a waste. I did accomplish some good, and I gained a lot of experience and wisdom. It’s not all a loss. Yet I sometimes look at other people I know in my age range, people who have had a clearer vision and trajectory through their lives, and I envy them. I imagine what I could have accomplished had I owned my life sooner. But I cannot rewrite history. I can only write the story from this point forward, and I intend it to be quite different from the chapters before. Because being true to myself empowers me to live with vision, passion, and purpose.

This passion can at times leave me frustrated that I cannot accomplish more, more quickly. I want to pursue every opportunity that strengthens my ability to have the impact I want to see from my life. Which, of course, is unrealistic. As focused, intentional, and passionate as I am, I still only have 24 hours in my day and a certain amount of energy to expend. I also recognize the value of and try to practice healthy self-care. Sometimes my engagement leads me to neglect that, and I have to readjust and regain that margin in my life. Which brings me back to the sage advice of my friend: be patient. I still have a lot of life ahead of me.

I will still feel disappointment and frustration when opportunities I want to pursue don’t work out. But I will try to hold the long view, recognizing that there are all sorts of possibilities ahead, most of which I’m not even aware of at present. And in the meantime, I’ll continue to change the world through the channels available to me now, which are significant.

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