Phoenix Rising

Tomorrow will be my 50^th birthday. Not surprisingly, this has me in a rather introspective mood. Half a century. That’s a few trips around the sun. Enough time to gain some wisdom and to realize how much more I still have to learn. Enough time to make a few mistakes and, hopefully, learn from them. Enough time to experience significant joy, along with deep grief. To begin to understand this circle of life, but by no means to fully comprehend it.

I don’t feel like I’m 50. I don’t really know what 50 is supposed to feel like. From the narrative my culture promotes I think I’m supposed to be well over the hill and heading into decline. I’m supposed to be going to sleep at 8 PM, staying home and watching reruns of Golden Girls, or something like that. That certainly doesn’t describe me, nor do I want it to (and if it does describe you, no judgment here). I feel more alive and energetic than at any time in my life. I feel like life has only begun. I am embracing life with a zest that I lacked for all the prior years. I might stay out till 2 AM on the dance floor. Or I might explore new expressions of spirituality. I might go on a new adventure. The world is open before me. I am finally myself and able to live in the world from that place of authenticity. It’s beautiful. Not always easy. In fact, it comes with a hell of a lot of tears. Still, it’s beautiful. I feel more whole than I ever have. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see a woman who is past her prime. I see a woman who is only coming into it.

As part of my celebration of life, I got my first tattoo last weekend. I’ve been thinking about doing so for some time and finally had the courage to act on that intention, spurred in part by the encouragement and support of a couple awesome ladies I know. This tattoo seems particularly appropriate as I enter the second half-century of my life. A person who knows me saw it and asked what the significance of it was. I was rather dumbfounded. While by no means a close personal friend, this man has been around me long enough that I would have thought the significance was totally clear. Maybe he’s not the only one. Allow me to clarify.

The phoenix reminds me of the journey I have been on the past several years. I have risen from the ashes of the person I once was and the life I once knew to create a new life, to claim my true identity, to radiate that life and energy to the world around me as I shine forth the divine feminine within me. It is a symbol of rebirth, of new life. And therefore central to my understanding of myself. I did not arrive at the place I am today, on the eve of turning 50, without sacrifice, grief, and loss. I have been through the flames. And I have come out re-formed, stronger, more confident, more wholehearted. Every time I see this image on my arm I am reminded of this truth and of the courage it has taken me to come this far. I can draw on that to summon the courage to keep going. This journey is far from over. I may be 50 by the count of tours around the sun, but my life has only just begun.  

#Phoenixrising#

Sometimes Courage is a Trip to California

Recently I took a small but significant step: for the first time since coming out two and a half years ago, I left the state of Arizona. True, I only went to California, but crossing the state line felt like a milestone for me. A friend asked me the other day why I don’t travel more. After all, I’ve seen a lot of the world, lived in a few countries and have the interest and skill set to thrive internationally. How could someone like me find it so momentous simply to travel to California?

I gave her three primary reasons:

Money. It takes money to travel. I’ve never had large amounts of money. Being a missionary isn’t exactly a lucrative career financially. I followed that with a teaching career. Again, not the path to financial wealth. Then I got divorced and started at an entry-level job. I’m doing okay financially, but I don’t exactly have a lot of disposable income that I can spend traveling. I’m working hard to manage my finances responsibly, so that means I don’t travel if doing so requires extensive use of my credit card.

      Fear. As a single transgender woman, traveling raises my fear level. I don’t know how I will be received anywhere I go. I fear for my safety. Certain cities are likely to be safe, or at least safer and more welcoming, but if I travel by car, I have to pass through places that don’t feel as safe, and if I travel by plane, well, see point 1. Any place that is likely to lean socially or politically conservative, which would encompass most anything surrounding my home city, does not feel safe or welcoming to me, especially in our current political climate. I would have loved to visit my daughter in Oklahoma, but there’s no way in hell I was going to risk a trip to Oklahoma.

      When it comes to traveling outside of the country, the risk level goes even higher. There are numerous countries in the world I would not even consider visiting. My very life would be at risk. One of those is Russia, a country I would love to visit again, but I cannot imagine doing so. I do hope eventually to get overseas and visit some places that would be more accepting of transgender people, but any step into a new environment raises my anxiety and fear. 

      I am working on facing this fear (such as taking a trip to California!). But my fears are real and valid as a member of a visible marginalized group that faces overt hostility and discrimination, even violence, in many places around the world, including in the US. I have to factor that in to any travel plans I make.

      Rootedness. This factor speaks more to why I don’t pursue an international career or a life as a nomad than to why I don’t visit places on vacation. I spent a lot of my life moving around. I’ve lived a lot of places and have never established deep roots in any one place since I left home after high school. Sure, I’ve had longer stints in various locations, but I’ve never really had the opportunity to settle in and make a city my home. I am enjoying this experience right now. I feel connected to my city, to the friends I have here, and to the communities I belong to. I feel at home, and it is a wonderful feeling. I care about this place and want to invest my time and energy into it. I have traveled halfway around the world, seen some amazing places and met some fascinating people. But in the end my journey brought me back to the place I left several years earlier and I found home right where I’d begun. There may come a time when I’m ready to move on again, but for now, I’m actually content to stay here in my quirky little desert city, enjoying the richness, beauty, and diversity it has to offer.

Looking ahead, I do want to take another trip soon. I just need to collect some money (and some time off!) and decide where I’m going to go. When I do, I’ll encounter a measure of anxiety and fear, but I can deal with those one step at a time. Sometimes courage is simply taking a trip to California.

A Brave New Spiritual World

Recently my friend Bethany presented me with a delightful gift: my first tarot deck. She and I had been talking earlier in the week about oracle cards and tarot decks and she offered to loan me a book she had found helpful in learning about tarot, an offer I gratefully and gladly received. Then she surprised me with the gift of my first deck – the very deck I had told her had captivated my interest for some time with its amazing images. I feel like a child to whom a vast treasure chest has been opened. I hardly know where to begin, but am so eager to dive in deep.

Coming from an evangelical Christian background, I have had to set aside a lot of baggage just to reach this point of exploring tarot. It fell under a strong taboo because it dealt with the occult. It reeked of Satan and dabbling in it was a step on the road to hell. Numerous other spiritual practices received the same judgment. I would not have considered touching these practices because in my mind they were associated with false religions, and all false religions were ultimately of the Devil. I was committed to the narrow way that would lead me to heaven. Although I would not have acknowledged it for most of my life, my religious beliefs were saturated with and driven by fear: fear of displeasing god, fear of missing “god’s will,” fear of straying from “the narrow path,” fear of exploring new and different spiritual expressions. Fear.

As I wrote 18 months ago, I no longer claim to be a Christian. I no longer adhere to the teachings of the Bible, nor consider it to be anything more than a collection of religious writings reflecting certain views of the divine-human encounter. I find that the Christian worldview, particularly as practiced in the United States at present, does not satisfy my spiritual understanding. But I am still a spiritual person.

I don’t hold to any specific set of beliefs about the divine. In fact, any religious or spiritual practice that carefully and narrowly delineates and defines what is “correct” spiritual belief and practice inherently repels me at this point. I’m tired of trying to live within a set of rules defined by someone else, claiming that it represents the divine order. What I value are approaches to spirituality that offer tools to help me connect with my inner self, with the goddess within me and the divine energy within the universe. Tarot is one such tool. Contrary to the impression I received about it in my former life, it doesn’t predict what will happen to me. It doesn’t even tell me what I must do. It stimulates my reflection. It takes me inside myself to help me make my own decisions and act on them. It functions very similar to what prayer and the bible used to do for me, without the pressure of having to determine and follow “god’s will.” I must take ownership of my life and the choices I make. The tarot only provides suggestions and guidance for what various choices may bring into my life. I have so much to learn, and my understanding at present is still so basic that I may well look back on these words later and laugh at how simplistic they are. But this is a profound step for me.

There are other areas I want to explore as well. I appreciate the friends who have come into my life, bringing a diverse set of spiritual understandings and practices. I want to learn from you. I want to explore your practices and see how they fit into my spirituality. I welcome invitations and opportunities to join you. I don’t want to force my way in, nor do I want anyone to try to persuade me that their particular spirituality is THE right one. I’ve had enough of that already. My sense of being completely ignorant of other spiritualities hinders me from boldly stepping out, but I sincerely want to learn. What I value in any religious or spiritual practice is the extent to which it enables me/us to connect with our inner selves, to affirm our inherent worth and dignity as divine beings, to find and share wisdom, and to incorporate all this into the way we view and interact with one another.

I look forward to setting out on my spiritual journey. This too is an act of courage for me. I’m not used to making my own course. I’m used to reading, listening and applying the teachings of others to my life as I try to follow the narrow path. I’m now in a brave new spiritual world. I appreciate all those who, like Bethany, offer tools, resources and wisdom to assist me along the way. I accept that in the end, I must take responsibility for myself and create my own path. There will be mistakes, failures and missteps along the way, but it’s all part of the process of learning and growing. Let the adventure begin!

Emerging from the Cocoon

A week ago today I entered the hospital to undergo the transformation I've been anticipating for so long. All of the excitement and anxiety that had built up over the previous weeks and months had come to that moment. Now, a week later, I am finally able to compose some of my thoughts in reflection on this amazing, intense journey.

First of all, I am so happy, so very happy. From the moment the anesthesia wore off enough for me to have some conscious recognition that it was done, I have been so happy that I did it. Through all the challenges of the past week, I have not regretted it one moment. Although my body has a lot of healing still to do, I finally feel like I am in my body for the first time in my life.

The past week's journey, however, has tested me and pushed me to my limits and beyond. It has not been more difficult than I had imagined, but it has demanded everything I had to give. I come out of this process with such confidence in myself. I faced some of my biggest fears, I persevered through sleepless nights and days of pain to achieve my goal. If I can do this, I can do anything I set my mind to.

Twice in the past week I hit a wall, a wall of reaching my capacity to endure what I was going through. The first wall came on the second night after the surgery, while I was still in the hospital. I had not had any significant sleep for two nights and had felt constant pain and discomfort for 24+ hours. Worse still, my dear friend Christine had to leave that night to return home for work the next day. She had been my rock through the previous three days, the one who was there to hold my hand tightly, to encourage me, to help me laugh in the midst of everything. She was with me at the moment I went under the anesthesia and again the moment I came out of it. Her strength became my strength, an additional well of energy to draw on as I began my recovery. Her presence was invaluable in those days, Now I had to face the coming day without her or any other friend by my side, and I felt overwhelmed. I dug deep, held her close to my heart and mind, and determined that I would succeed. And I did.

On Saturday I hit another wall, again fueled particularly by lack of sleep. It's hard to sleep when your body is in pain. Just the slightest pain in a sensitive location and with enough intensity, is enough to chase sleep far from you. Two nights of limited sleep and a week of dealing with the pain and discomfort left me drained. Everything was going well, but healing is hard work, and my body was tired. I hadn't overdone it. I hadn't pushed myself too hard. My body just needed time to rest. Which I did, spending most of the day lying on the sofa or sitting in a chair watching whatever happened to be on TV. (Note to others: when recovering from major surgery, choose a location with a full array of cable channels. It helps.) My friend Leslie was with me by that point and provided the encouragement and support needed to make it over that wall. Saturday night I finally enjoyed a decent night's sleep and the world began to look a lot better on Sunday.

On Sunday afternoon I took a brief walk outdoors. The air had a lovely scent of fresh rain, as it had rained the previous night. The sun was out with a pleasant warmth and the clouds floated with lightness across the sky. I listened to the birds singing, absorbed the beauty around me and felt the healing going on inside myself and I felt such peace. My journey is not complete. I have a lot of healing ahead. But I am whole. I am complete. The butterfly has emerged from her cocoon. Soon she will spread her wings.

I am so grateful for everyone who has supported me through the process. I have appreciated the notes of encouragement as I (or Christine) shared brief updates on my Facebook page, which was all I had the energy for last week. Above all I cherish the support of the women who have walked alongside me this week: Christine, Jennifer, Leslie, Emily and Jamie. You are all so amazing and wonderful and I am so honored and grateful to share this journey with you. I would not be who I am today without you.

And I look forward to what lies ahead.

Courage

I nervously paced back and forth in the green room, half-listening to Molly tell her story on stage. Mostly, my thoughts absorbed me as I tried to calm my racing heart. In a few moments it would be my turn to go out on that stage and share my story. Noel, the host, had led off the evening with a moving story, followed by several others leading up to Molly. I would close out the night’s show. My journey had been all about taking courageous steps. Sharing the story of that journey in the Female Storytellers show was the next one. I could do this...or could I?

Torey had shared her story before Molly, a powerful tale that spoke to my heart. I felt such a connection with her as she shared about finding her own worth and overcoming fear to make life-transforming choices. Her context is much different, yet we have so much in common. Her courage and vitality inspire me. Each of the women sharing their stories had been powerful in a way uniquely her own. This group was amazing, every one a bad-ass nasty woman. I was honored to share a stage with them.

As Molly continued her story I continued to wrestle with my doubts. My mind tried to play all the old tapes, lies about my lack of worth, my insignificance, my presumption in believing that I could go out there before that audience. Fear raised its ugly head as well. What would the audience think? How would they respond? What was I thinking? This is nuts. Sometimes, as Torey had said, you just have to tell your mind to “Shut the fuck up.” I pushed away the lies, the fear, and the gremlins, sat down on a chair and focused on deep breathing, reaching for that inner place of calm. I am worthy. I am not afraid. I am bold, courageous and I CAN do this.

Vulnerability. It had played a key role in my journey. Now I was going to display it on a public stage. I thought about Brene Brown’s famous TED talk on the topic, and how she had boldly overcome her own fear of vulnerability to give it. She had hoped no one would pay attention, only to have her talk go viral. Fortunately, tonight’s show was not being recorded for online distribution. I only had to be vulnerable before this audience in this moment. Vulnerability opens the door to connection. I CAN DO THIS.

I thought of my friends sitting in the audience: Ana Sofia, Chelsea, Melissa, Sylvia, Miki, Chandra, Christine, Abbie. I thought of the numerous other friends who were not able to be at the show, but who I knew were 100% behind me, cheering for me, sending their positive energy my way. I had feared that after coming out, I would find myself completely rejected, alone and friendless in the world. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Those friends out there testified to that. Their love had sustained and supported me on this journey. They believed in me. I believe in myself. I have confidence in me. I’ve made it this far. I’ve overcome so much, made so much progress. I CAN DO THIS. Fear will not conquer me. My story is worth telling.

Molly finished her story to resounding applause. I gave her a big hug as she came off the stage. It takes a lot of courage to get on a stage before an audience and tell your personal story, no matter what that story is. Molly, like me, was a first-timer, and she’d been fantastic. Noel stepped onto the stage and introduced the next and final speaker – me. My moment had come. I glanced once again at my notes, took a deep breath, turned and confidently stepped onto the stage…