Burly Beard?

Ruth and I went to the photo booths after the worst week. I think we were ready to be done with it, and usher in a new sentiment. We got to our favorite photobooth in town and it was out of order. (As the second photo depicts~as I am sitting inside the booth, having crossed the very official notification on the weathered masking tape stating the obvious... I am pissed!)

Being the dope I am, and Ruth being the genius she is (no, really she is. She's an ivy leaguer. I just went to Bennington. Wah wah wah...) decided to use her blackberry to take pics that she could later morph in photoshop to look like the real photostrips. She made it work, but these are just a few individual frames.

I like this first pic cuz I was hoping the faux fur trim on my jacket's hood would make me look like a burly off shore fisherman. Like an extra from JAWS, not like an extra from the Gorton's Fishsticks commercials. Buh!

Does it work?

I hope so, cuz I am ready to start having things work again in my life. I gave myself last week to grieve and wallow in my self pity, and within a few days I was ready to be done. I got bored with myself, and was ready to pick up and move on.

So I did... I went back to scheming and dreaming like my typical Sagittarian ways. I enlisted good friends and conspirators to help me focus some of my masterful plans, and luckily some of theme stuck. I heard back from Anne Slowey today that now is the perfect time to run the Elle Magazine piece. She said that she was just talking about me yesterday. How humbling is that?

Just this past week I really committed to putting my self out there, and admitted what I really want, and want to do. It can be a pretty terrifying process. I was terrified to tiptoe past my modesty and say what I had really hoped I could create for myself. This after feeling really rejected and denounced just a few days before. I don't want to give up on myself anymore. I don't want to assume other people's negative, destructive habits and believe their issues to be speaking truths about me. I have to see through it ~ through to my goals.

Ok, so what is it that I want again? Besides a big burly off shore fisherman's beard?

One week...

One week down ~ after the toughest decision of my life. "Still around the morning after..."

Thank you guys.

Scar tissue

I have witnessed my own subconscious sabotaging methods for decades. Since I was 15, I have tried to employ so many "self-help" techniques, and enlisted so many therapists to help me make the changes necessary to "get over stuff and just be happy already." I think I am starting to see that it doesn't necessarily work like that, but I'm still not sure how it does work then.

Somehow I had it programmed in my head that I was simply "depressive" or that I was permanently damaged by the experiences in my life. There might have been fleeting moments of relief, but I believed that no true peace would be possible for me. Any momentary lightening of the darkness would fill me with such billowing hope, until the darkness returned, and cast its ever-present toxic shadow over my resuscitated optimism.

Why? Why could I make no considerable progress?

After a lifetime of being told that I "can't" do whatever I thought it was that I wanted to do, I started to believe it myself. I started to talk myself out of every dream I ever had, and why it would never be possible to attain. Worse than that, I would belittle myself for actually thinking someone like me deserved such riches.

When do we stop believing that we are worth our own dreams?

How can we feel inspired by those who strive for those lofty goals, rather than despising them, or thinking that they were the "chosen ones," and we are average mortals not deserving of hope and success? How do we become conditioned to "settle" and feel resigned in our hopelessness?

I dreamed my whole life to feel whole in this body. Not necessarily to feel like a boy or a man in this body, but to feel less conflicted with the sex of this body that was prescribed before I was born. In many ways, it felt like a birth defect, but one so subtle that the outside world would not be able to identify it upon first glance. How can I say that I was born in the wrong body without sounding crazy? How can something I have known my whole life not feel like my own? I always felt so tormented by the discrepancy between my mind that envisioned my own masculinity and my body that depicted the female form. I felt so crazy and wrong to want something to fix that tortured conflict I knew in my body every day.

* * * * *

In 4th grade I saw an episode of the Oprah show about people who had been raised the wrong gender. Underdeveloped males that mistakenly been raised as girls. I remember the feeling of exuberant joy that seemed almost like a religious enlightenment: "It was NOT MY FAULT." I identified with everything those members of the panel recounted about their childhoods. They had crushes on their female friends, but didn't feel like lesbians, they wanted to participate in more traditionally boyish social settings, but didn't think of themselves as tomboys. Everything was corresponding to my experience, and so it was a sign that I was supposed to see this particular show.

For two years I found myself joyfully clutching to this self-assumed medical secret, as it felt like a countdown until the day the doctors would recognize their mistake, and rectify their miscalculations. And then the worst thing possible happened towards the end of my 6th grade year: On June 13th, 1987 I got my period. Suddenly, I knew the truth ~ it was my fault. My body was not an underdeveloped boy's body, but a fully functioning female body. So the "problem" was in my head~the way my mind internalized this decrepancy between mind and body and how gender identity/expression differed from the biological sex are programmed to be.

There weren't very many positive role models for the transcommunity at that time. The media depicted things like cross dressers as a comedic or fetishistic elements in films and on television. It was easier to find charicatures of what society deemed as "gender misfits" than it was to find any genuine depictions of trans people and their experiences within the world at large. Even fewer cases of "female to male" back then.

I felt like a freak.

Because I had so little exposure to the trans experience back then, I didn't know it was even an identity to embrace. I had no understanding that there would be ways to rectify that internal versus external discrepancy. I didn't know that I could exorcise those demons, and make decisions to eradicate the gap between how I felt and how I looked. Maybe it wasn't so much about eradicating that gap, as opposed to filling it in. It not polarized, between girl vs boy ~ it is just who I am, and where I am, somewhere more in the middle. (I am my own "middle man.")

Having felt broken my whole life, I guess I didn't get it. Scar tissue~it fuses what has been severed, bridges those gaps. I see these new scars on my chest as the symbol for this process of my healing from the breakages/break ups. This scar tissue has filled in the abyss, and made me feel whole for once in my life. I think I had the misconception that I had to break myself down more in therapy to arrive at some self-realized actualization that would bring contentment. As much as there have been moments of shattering the crystalized, yet incorrect notions of how I had to live my life ~ simply because I didn't know there were other options ~ I think it didn't have to be about beating myself up during that process. It didn't have to be about punishing myself, or seeking out other people who would punish me when we'd hit those vulnerabilities. I don't want to be punished anymore.

I don't want to succumb to the shame. I don't believe that should feel ashamed of being trans, like it will single-handedly make me unlovable. Or deny my challenging past. And I don't need to assume other people's fears as my own, if they can not love me here. I am ready to accept the sum total of facets that make me who I am, and not want to have to "excuse" any single one of them. Mostly, I am ready to seek out people who have accepted their sum totals, as well, and can meet me here ~ scars and all.

Can do...

In the midst of a challenging time right now, I have been reaching out to my best friends and trying to regain my balance. I received a very humbling email from one of my best friends while I was writing the last blog entry posted. Receiving her email literally had me in chills and in tears (which is tough do so since I have started testosterone). I was so moved by her words and offerings, and her timing could not have been better. The sentiments shared with me were so profound that I asked permission to post them here, changing names where necessary.

I hope this may resonate with others as well...

hey Will-- that was quite an email. It gets me thinking about a lot of things... and mostly that I wish we could get a drink and talk in person! But it also makes me think about a talk my Dad had with me when we were shooting baskets when I was nine or ten years old. I am not sure how he got going on this, but I recall that he was adamant that I understand this at a young age:

That people, even-- and sometimes especially-- friends and family members who love me, will often not want me to challenge myself to accomplish things. It is nothing personal to me, it is human nature. They will tell me that I CAN'T do things that I say I want to do. They won't mean to hold me back consciously. They will say that they really want the best for me-- only the very best. But when I try to do anything out of the ordinary, amazing, challenging... they will express themselves subtly but very clearly through words and actions: "you can't." And they might not even realize they are doing it, they might deny it or they might say they are doing it to protect me.

He went on: But what they are really doing is desperately clinging to the safety of their reality of life and their relationships and the world. By trying to do something extraordinary, I will be exposing the people around me who aren't (or feel they aren't) pursuing any of their dreams-- maybe the dreams people have been talking them out of their whole lives. And that will be an awful feeling for them. So rather than face all that down, they will try to retreat to "the way things have always been" and they will try very hard to make me come with them. And the more earth-shattering my plans are, the more wildly they will defend themselves from it. And, sometimes it will be the people who are closest to me who will do this the most, because they have the most to lose by me growing and changing and, maybe, leaving them behind.
------

It was a heavy trip to lay on a kid. But he said he was just so afraid that I might go into to the world trusting that people will look out for me and want the best for me, and that I might believe them when they tell me I can't do something. And you know what Will?? He was totally right about everything. This has almost happened to me many times-- never from him and never from (my partner), thankfully. But girlfriends, relatives, friends, advisers!-- they have all done this with me. When I said I want to move across the country with basically no money to become a carpenter, when I decided to be a doctor...run a marathon...quit OBGyn to go into public health...etc. These things are not even all that Earth-shattering. But just enough for the people who fear they will be "left behind" in the process or exposed for their "ordinariness" or something. But in every single instance, even though I was hurt or confused by their reactions, I remembered what my dad said, and I did not believe them. And I forgave them for it. Because they didn't mean to do this to me. And what's more, I might have even done this to them sometime. This is human nature, sadly.

I cannot even imagine how threatening it is to (some) that you are taking charge of your life, your body and your whole gender expression in the world. Talk about Earth-shattering! I am not at all surprised that you have found (them) driven to extremes to keep you from doing this awesome work. I don't mean to reduce your whole dynamic to this, but I just really thought it was important to pass on my Dad's thoughts. I am sure you have already realized he's right-- but you have probably learned it the hard way over the years.

You are at a crucially important point in your life now, and it is essential that you surround yourself with people who will tell you that you CAN create and grow into the life you want. And if there are still those people around you who whisper their doubts or hack away, please, you just cannot believe what they tell you. They are delirious with fear.

Thank you to everyone who has told me that I can do this... That I can find peace in this body, in this life, and in all of my experiences. I am sorry to all of whom I have told that they couldn't do something. I see now how crippling that can be. And I see how hearing that my whole life has made it even more important to learn this lesson of liberation for myself. Anything is possible... We are worth our dreams. Maybe my only real dream was to step out of that spiral of negative sabotage. Slowly, that dream is being realized. Thanks for helping me get here.

One day...

...at a time. I see now why 12 step groups use that mantra: because speaking in generalities is terrifying. "Will I _never_ make that horrible choice again? Will I _always_ do the right thing?" It's tricky. And challenging. It's the eternal process, ever unfolding.

I think the biggest lesson I am learning is about forgiveness. Mostly learning how to really forgive myself. Because I had grown up in an abusive dynamic as a child, I learned that I was my own worst enemy. I was conditioned to see all of the things that I did personally that brought about negative effects. If I got nervous about my first day of school, or got angry about the way the family dog was treated~there were consequences to my emotive actions. It wasn't my dad's fault for getting angry, it was my fault for provoking him. And slowly I became conditioned. If I do such and such, compassionate love will be withheld, impatient aggression will be doled out.

Because children really are dependent on their care taker's offerings of nurturing support, it is in the children's best interest to modify their behaviour to still get the requisite love needed. So, we silence parts of ourselves, and suppress/repress what we feel doesn't bring us that desired affection. But there is always a backlash. There is always a reservoir of hurt and pain when we implement those modifications. Some of us are better at draining those emotional pools, so we won't drown in them later down the line.

As for me, I was horrible at it. My pool of emotional reserves became tsunami status whenever I was required to add a new facet to the "suppression" list. It wasn't until my teen aged years when I started to stage a coup. I was angry that I wasn't allowed to be the scared little kid that I felt I deserved to be. I wasn't held and told it was going to be okay, or that I was going to be okay. I was never taught how to self-soothe as I got older. Instead I was scolded, punished, humiliated for feeling upset. It was inconvenient to my parents that I had any emotions at all. I was labelled as "difficult" and analyzed. What was there to question? I just needed even the tiniest amount of compassion. Was that so impossible to see?

I have spent my lifetime trying to heal from these early developmental wounds. I have tried to learn the skills of intimacy, and the power of compassion and empathy. I have tried with all of my focus to be a "good" person, knowing all too well the damage that occurs when "non-good" people have too much of a presence in our lives. And yet, I still fall short. As good as I have tried to be, I often feel like I am somehow still that jerk that screws up. That failure that has emotional responses that make me unlovable, rejected, abandoned. I get angry, too angry and I am the jerk. I get sad, too sad, and I am pathetic. I get frustrated, too frustrated and I should back off.

Ironically, one of my best qualities I believe is also my biggest weakness. I think my capacity for compassion and my attempts at patience have really devastated me, and left me wide open to give not so mindful people the benefit of the doubt, and really crush me time and time again. I say that now, from a place of just having been leveled. Again.

Having grown up profoundly wounded, I have always fought for the underdogs. In elementary school I was well liked, but aways rallied around the kids who were teased. In high school I worked at art programs, and sought out the kids with emotional disturbances. In college I studied Conflict Resolution to ensure the less fortunate weren't going to get bullied anymore. Professionally, I worked with~ and later adopted animals that no one else could handle because they were not "tamed." But unfortunately, I think this applied to many of my relationships as well.

Because in theory, I empathize with wounded people, I often put myself in the line of fire accidentally. I think many of us have bumps and bruises, I mean~ we all must if we have been conscious... But there is a difference. A difference between those who believe that they are capable of handling challenging things, and working through their fears to achieve a sense of closeness and openness, versus those who have felt so profoundly "wrecked" by the course of their lives that they can not restore faith in the possibility that they can heal and turn things around.

Maybe because I saw myself as so profoundly "wrecked" by much of my life~ so conditioned to think that my reactions were bad, and made me unlovable, that made me feel like I deserved to take whatever punches came my way. Sometimes working for the "victims" can victimize us along the way. Hurt people hurt people. Hurt people hurt me.

So, where does it end? How do we stage that coup, start a revolution where is it about healing and not fighting? When it is about compassion and empathy, not "one upping" each other? When the things we were taught to silence within ourselves are heard, and still make us lovable? When do those elements within us that make us feel most broken become our greatest assets?

How do we get there from here? One day at a time, right? But with what exactly do we fill those days to make a genuine transformation happen? When do we decide to let down our defenses to find true intimacy when we have been so conditioned to think that we literally can not exist without those shielding mechanisms?

How can I love you if you keep wounding me, because you feel unlovable and wounded? How can I love myself knowing that I have not loved you "well" enough to make you feel safe enough to let down your defenses with me? How do we not trigger the historic emotional landmines that every person we ever loved planted in our hearts? How do we diffuse those bombs we are about to drop, and heal from the ones already dropped?

I mean~where the hell do we begin?

Perhaps forgiveness is the first step. If I can forgive myself for the lifetime of telling myself I am unlovable because I was that scared kid who didn't know how to handle things~then maybe I can liberate myself from those paralyzing, self-sabotaging confines. Maybe telling myself that all kids get scared, it makes us human~ that what I felt was in the scope of the struggles of humanity will help me heal. I couldn't choose my parents' reaction to my struggles, but I can change the context of how their reactions now affect me.

I was a scared little kid, who was bullied into more fears, instead of bullied out of them, like they would have hoped. With that realization, I had always tried to exert a calm patience with others when they were struggling most. But as we struggle we can lose perspective, and lash out at those who witness our vulnerability. I was wounded there, in that place of wanting to be an ally, for being close enough to reignite those older fears of being told we are unlovable.

I was told that I became my father. I was leveled. How could I have become what I hated most: the impatient, abusive bully that wrestled some anxious person into submission? How could I have seen so much of myself in that person hurting so badly, and want to be the ally we never had, and yet ironically and horrifically became yet another aggressor to be added to their list?

Conflicted... How could I have become the enemy that I despised?

Somewhere in here I am trying to find the roots to forgiveness. Forgiving myself for being the scared little kid that I felt brought on the abuses endured. Forgiving myself for being the person who took a lifetime to learn the skills to self-soothe, all the while desperately depending on others to "fix" it for me. Forgiving myself for consistently putting myself in positions where I would relive those old wounds over and over again. Feeling rejected, unlovable, abandoned because I did not reach out in the "right" ways. Seeking out patterns that I thought would help me transform those old patterns instead of affirming them. Forgiving myself for disappointing all of those whom I loved most. Forgiving myself for not "making" these people feel as loved as I wanted them to~as that desperate little kid in me had always hoped to feel. Forgiving myself for suppressing my anger every time someone hurt me, and twisting it around on myself, like it was my fault, so I could only punish myself and continue the cycle. Forgiving myself for the ways that the depression and suicidal tendencies were the modes that the self-punishment manifested, and in turn punished and hurt others. Maybe somewhere in there I am even learning how to forgive the father with whom I now identify. Perhaps if I have made the same mistakes, even while trying to desperately to be a good person, I can learn that others can make the same missteps. I can forgive my father for being human, and hurting those we love accidentally from that place of giving in to the pain, rather than learning from it.

I don't want to forgive myself for loving the "wrong" people. I don't think the people were wrong. I think what was wrong was the power I forfeited that kept me tethered to giving myself away under the guise of "love."

One of my best friends told me over dinner last night about an anecdote that really helped her ten years ago. That someone was really hurting and went to her best friend and said, "So and so really screwed me over. I hate them, how could they do that to me?" This friend replied: "You need to thank that person." Of course the woman upset was floored. How can she be expected the "thank" the person who most devastated her? The friend said: "You will learn more than you could ever imagine from this experience. That person has just granted you the opportunity to learn about yourself in a way that wouldn't have been possible otherwise. And for that, you need to thank them."

I see what my friend was saying. Maybe I never would have known the importance compassion and empathy would play in my life, had I not felt that trauma throughout out my childhood. Perhaps I wouldn't have invested myself in making it the focus of my life's work, be it in Conflict Resolution, friendships, romantic relationships, my own transition ~ my own healing, had my past been different. Perhaps I need to "thank" my father for granting me the opportunity to see that is what matters most. This is the foundation that he helped me to create for myself. Despite it being so crippling and debilitating at times~like all growing pains~we can become stronger by healing through that growth and development.

Times like now, I see what matters. I see through the haze of my broken heart, and believe that it will heal again BECAUSE of this opportunity to learn more. This opportunity to heal and find more answers BECAUSE of the fear, the pain, the delivery into an arena in which I am completely unfamiliar. If I could muster up enough courage to make the leap of faith to change my life during this transition, and see that as a metaphor to learn more despite the fears that surfaced, I know I can learn from this period of change as well. Transforming what had hurt me most into what teaches me the most... But I need to be the one ready to make that paradigm shift.

The grass is only greener on the other side if and when we finally commit to being gardeners, rather than the ones pissing all over our own yards...

I can forgive and be grateful for all that has hurt me the most. It has crafted my character and gotten me here, to this place of deeper understanding and ultimately peace. Thank you for breaking my heart, it will serve me well. Much love and gratitude... Will

Recovery

Hello, my name is Will.

And I am an addict.

I am addicted to my own self-destruction, and to loving harmful things in my life. I am codependent and crave loving those who never love me quite enough, so I can continue to believe that I am unlovable, and broken.

I was tested. Tempted.

What I crave most was offered up to me~the opportunity craft my own demise upon hearing some devastating news from someone I thought I loved. I was tested. I thought it was her test, testing me...

But ultimately I see that it was my test. Yes, I fell into a mini pit of despair upon hearing some rough news. (Are we ever as graceful as we would hope when we hear such news?) After a few hours, I slowly tried to muster up enough forgiveness and compassion for myself to remind myself ~ yes, in fact, this is difficult.

I see that this was my test. Could I resist the temptation to return to the self-destruction I used to know? Could I resist the desire to reach for that someone with whom I had hoped to have a future? Could I step up out of feeling so rejected and unlovable?

The answer is yes. Not only can I now see that I am okay ~ and will still feel the temptation to return to those self-defeating cravings ~ but I see that I have resisted. Time and time again ~ for six months.

That for over a year and a half I have been investing in my own wellness. My health ~ my severing all ties with codependence. That these past six months specifically were invested in my own development, my own transition on ALL levels.

Someone asked me if I regretted knowing this hurtful news. My answer is no. I needed to know if I could resist the temptation to return to my addiction. As sad as that news made me, it has ~ in part ~ transformed. That sadness is now also met with the most unbelievable sense of pride that I can quantify my progress, my development, my true investment in my own well being.

How would I have known how strong I am if I was never tempted to go back to my old ways? Now the tough part is sifting through the residual effects these epiphanies. Those losses suffered, and these gains affirmed.

My name is Will. I am an addict. I haven't "used" in six months.

Man, that feels so damn good to say. To challenges that we don't think we can endure~and to the pride and relief we feel when we do... How is this pain and most challenging test exactly what I needed?

Here is to making better choices, investing in ourselves, and surrounding ourselves with inspiring people willing to do their own work, and helping us do ours. Thank you to all of you that have helped get me here~either by your support or by your testing me. I am here none the less, and for that I am so unbelievably relieved. Just imagine, we can actually be healthy and see that recovery is possible. I am recovering...

Times, they are a'changin'...

Quote of the Day - Marie Curie - "Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood."

That was some quote of the day from gmail the other day... I am feeling a bit overwhelmed, so I was hoping that starting on that note might help. Eeeeeeeeeeh. Maybe not.

My friend Danni came with me to file the paperwork in the DC District Courts to begin my name change. She said that she came with me because she could imagine how intense the process might feel, and she knew if it was her, she wouldn't want to be there alone. It was nice to have the company, as it is such a surreal experience. And even nicer to not have to ask. I didn't really know that was an option...

Another friend of mine and I were talking about "official business" that overlaps with our personal lives. She is in the midst of contemplating a divorce~ a very emotionally charged separation, sad to say, for her sake. We commiserated about how what is most private, awkward or painful in our lives HAS to be made public. That we can not go through these experiences unscathed. What makes us feel most vulnerable ultimately will be revealed to the world, first to our most intimate cohorts, then slowly devolving into a gossip fest. You know you're done with the state worker on the other side of the bullet proof glass window askes you to raise your right hand before she notorizes your broken heart.

My pending name change is not breaking my heart, but I did find myself welling up the night before I went to the courthouse. Someone keeps asking me if I am sure if I want to go through with this. Just because it is emotional for me does not mean that I am waivering. It's just tough. Giving up the name I have known my entire life is difficult. Especially considering that my name is a Hawaiian/Italian combo~making me the only one in history with these names put together (Lani Jayne Iacovelli). Our names are so intertwined with our identities, and our family relations. I am rejecting what I was given~the intentional choice my parents made to give me a name that would be historically unique.

People are rallying around me to start testing out this new name of mine: "Will Alexander Warren" ~ kind of plain in justaposition to my given name. I appreciate the effort. Yet, other protested, telling me how my new name should be closer to my old to make the transition easier for others. And that's just it... That is why this part of my transition feels the hardest to me: specifically because this element requires that other participate. It is a bit easier to tell if people are "supporting" the new name and masculine pronouns than if they thought top surgery or hormones were a good idea. I don't mean for this to be a test, an ultimatum. But we are here now.

Are you here with me? Your friend~Will

Responses to name question~

Here are some responses from a ton of different folks to my name change question. Some funny ones thrown in the mix! Thanks to all who replied... (I hope it's okay I am including your responses here...)

wow. this is big. i feel like there is so much wrapped up in a name. the first thing that went through my mind was the connection to our parents that our name has. i can imagine that it feels really amazing and really painful all at the same time to be making these decisions. the other word that went through my head in relation to the ties to our family is relief... (my response: yes, the family part is tough for me... tough to have to tell my parents that i am opting to abandon the "special" name they picked out for me, to assume one that is so much simplier. i've always wanted to be less "different" ~ being trans, with a weird name no one can pronounce, etc. i've always just wanted to be the boy next door. boring, i know... but what can i say?)

I'm glad to hear that you're well, first of all, but second of all, I'd like to put my vote in for "Will." Second choice(s): either Lucien or Augusten. But I would also like to offer a strong opposition vote for Lars; in this day and age, it sounds like a disease. Please don't pick Lars.

As for the last name, I'm not sure if you have a rationale for changing it, but I'll always love Iacovelli. It's just such a hip word with orthographic nuance.

It's also taken a strong will to get where you are now.

I like Will the best, but why are you changing your last name? Will Warren is a bit of a tongue twister...try to say it 10 times real fast! (my response: this is from my sister in law, who opted to NOT assume "iacovelli" as her own last name. I love that "will warren" seems more like a tongue twister than "lani iacovelli" ~which isn't even possible to say ten times fast!)

Liam Alexander Warren Liam is easier a transition from Lani, I think.
Beware of "Augustus" because of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

dude, I got to say Will is certainly the least pretentious of the
names. my vote is for Will.....but i will love you no matter what.

Many of the names on the list are nice ones, they sound good. I like
the way Linus sounds but I think of the Peanuts character.... This is such a personal choice. I would suggest looking at the
meaning of the names you have on the list. Or working backward and
picking a name that reflects who you are or who you want to be. For
example, actually, I picked a Hebrew name when I officially converted
to Judaism when Jonathan and I were engaged. I picked Tzofia-a pretty
name, but it also means, "watcher, or scout" and I liked that vision.
Every time I hear the name I am reminded of what the name embodies.

So if you found a name that reflected your journey, each time you hear
the name, you'll hear a reminder, which will, I think, help you on
your journey. Your current name, Lani Jayne, reflects your life up to
this point, and your new name will carry you into the future from that
day forward.

I think I need to see you again in person before I can
give my advice... although Linus does seem fun,
hahahah...

I'm disappointed to not see neither Buck Naked nor Rod Stroker on your list.
How about Eusto B. Lani? (my response: thanks dozer! these are great suggestions!)

Lanier.

I like all of your ideas. The family names are nice because in a way it feels that the name is handed down to you. The other ideas are so interesting! I think the name Dulani is really neat. Don't know the origin of this one, maybe Italian, but a great way of altering your name to give it a more masculine flare. And also seems like a more seamless trasition from Lani to Dulani. I love that. Oh, but please, NO LARS. I hope this helps you make your choice, and I hope this helps you know that you should not be LARS. Just kidding. Good luck. (my response: huh, apparently lars is not a favorite! the only one i got stating "anything but this!" and twice! ha!)


A lot of the names are cool sounding but I worry that you would tire of them. A name like Milos, say... if you're born with it, there you are, but if not it feels a bit like a stage name. Then again, maybe it doesn't to someone who uses it. I don't know... That being said, I' m gravitating to the names that are somewhat similar to yours OR just feel, intuitively like you. I've been thinking of you as 'Will" since our conversations about this in DC.. so that one, for example, "fits" in my mind..

My favs are:
Liam - fan of the Irish, of course. And you look uncannily like my boss Liam Power, from County Cork, and it starts with an L and is 2 syllables

Lexi (Lexi Westphal is nice and the name has the same ring/roll off the tongue as Lani)

Will - I like the short names. It is a little wimpy though.. Don't know why... Will of Will and Grace isn't wimpy... neither was Will Tipin (sp?) of Alias.. Hmm..

Alexander - Alex/Alec... well duh, it similar to my given name :) Also just a good solid name. "... the Great" ? Hello? Can we get any better than that?

Warren as last name is a good one if you change from Iacovelli. I like the idea of keeping a family connection.

PS - Dulani is an interesting choice if you want to technically change the name but still keep a similar nickname.

Whatever you choose, you'll always just be "Fathead" to me.. ;) (my response: it was tough to get my name legally changed to "fat head" tho... i tried!)

I am a huge fan of Lazlo -- I tried to get Aaron and Maria to name one of their upcoming kids Lazlo (OMG, did I tell you they are pregnant with triplets!? It�s insane, someday the whole world will be populated by lesbians on fertility drugs... Anyway, they already have Olive who is only a year and a half old, and now it looks like they will have Aristotle (Ari), Solomon, and Willa.)

OK, back to your name.
Maybe Lazlo isn't the kind of name you can give yourself, it's the kind of name you have to be able to blame your parents for? Iacovelli is such a great last name, but I assume you have a good reason for changing it, so... What about Alexander Will Warren? Then you have so many options for short names, like Xander, Lex, Big Al... Just kidding about the last one. (my response: "Al" is my dad's nickname, so it's already taken... well, and his other nickname is "Butch" ~damn he has taken then all!)

Personally, I think it's important to google the names and make sure there aren't too many already, and then get your domain name secured. Seriously, I think this is important. (my response: yes, i checked. some lame folks out there with versions of the name i want. plus, i googled my birth name, and beyond some bad art reviews of my work, i was listed on imdb and the turner classic movies website for some film work i had done in the past. sigh~ guess i'll have to do something note worthy with a new name, then huh???)


Now there is one good argument for keeping Iacovelli which is that you can always spot a telemarketer when they call and ask for Mr. Akkasmelly or whatever they come up with.

homage...

I haven't written for a while. There have been so many revelatory events and experiences that I have had in the few weeks since I have last posted, that I am not even sure where to begin.

I said goodbye to someone who was very important to me. It felt impossible, yet necessary. And I remember themes in my last post, about grief and grieving. How it is a process of which we never willingly accept, or seek out in our lives. It changes us, but not always in ways that we can predict.

It has changed me. There are invaluable lessons that I have learned over the past few months. Emotions excavated, and splayed out to catalogue and analyze.

This is my life. I wish it was easy to sound so cavalier, but it's tough. To walk away from what we love... Or more so, to watch it walk away from us. It has humbled me, and granted me such a sense of patience that is new to me. More than that, it has instilled a grand sense of compassion within me.

Perhaps I needed to experience this sense of loss to empathize with the grief of those whom I love. Today will be a difficult day, as it is a date that stands out. These days are never so easy. I remember years past, and it fills me with sadness to see the complexities of things. Events I wish I had handled differently, with more care and precision. Regrets I try to forgive within myself.

But there are other dates surrounding this one. A few days back, what would have been an anniversary. And one day forward, the marker of one of the darkest days in my own personal history. It becomes more clear~through the fog of grief and the lack of understanding... We are given more time.

This does not always feel like a gift. Sometimes it feels like a curse~like that bad day which will never end. The nightmare from which we can not awaken. Other times, it means we have hidden opportunities.

During this long goodbye I was trying to explain this theme that has been the single most inspiring factor in my life for the past six months. This idea of "revisionist history." I know that it typically connotes a very negative flavor~when people set out with their own self interests and rework the relevance of facts within history to prove their own agenda. I can see how that could potentially be destructive within the context of cultural histories, international inter-dependence. But here~being the narcissitic, ego-centric fool that I am~I will make this term my own.

Meaning: I will make my history my own.

Over a year ago I tried to create an audio/video installation pertaining to the psychological concept of "the tapes," messages that we replay on loop within our subconscious. It is where we tell ourselves: "I am always the fuck up," "I am just going to get crushed again," or "Yet another example of how I overcame ~ I am the victor."

There are many factors that create the messages embodied within our tapes. We probably have a tens of thousands of them, each labelled and cued to play, awaiting the next psychosocial trigger to start them up. Ones for relationships, others for the ways we perceive ourselves within the construct of our families, our work forces, our general daily lives.

It became clear to me on the "eve" of my transition last year that a whole slew of my tapes were filled with the messages "It will never work. You will never be whole. Never lovable. Never feel resolved. You're dad was right~don't bother, you aren't worth your dreams." It was very easy to give up before I began. Easy to see that each new hope would just come crashing down, and reveal the "truth" about my life. There were patterns and evidence, maybe even commentary from those who knew me. It would all "comply." So how then would it be possible to stage a coup?

I honestly had no clue. I had no reason to believe that my life could be any other way. It never had been... History has a heaviness to it. A way that left me feeling like my path had already been laid out for me. Like there was no changing course so late in the game.

But something amazing happened. The person I loved most left me. And despite all logic and reason~ I still survived.

I was asked by a good friend to be in an art show about the topic of "consume" and it was the focus I needed to explore some of these psychological themes. Another friend had mentioned that an editor from Elle Magazine was interested in my perspective on my transition and wanted to explore an option for possibly working together. This editor asked me to simply document my life, through like a journal type system. (My art installation got some bad reviews, and the Elle Magazine possibility has not come to fruition, but I see the point in it all...)

I would not know that I could survive the threat of feeling the most unlovable unless I had to face it~unless what I loved most left me. I wouldn't have known how important is it for me to create things based on my personal expressions and experiences unless these people had invited me to do so. And I wouldn't have known that I would be able to withstand the criticism of people who thought those expressions were unrefined~that this alone did not make me paralyzed, but rather made me want to step up and do work that was better crafted.

Slowly I began to see that instead of these things seeming like reinforcements to the already pathetic tapes that had played since my youth~I could step up and revise what needed improving.

Yes, my ex was right~the person I was back then was not worth staying for... The version of myself invested in my self-defeating tricks. As much as I miss her, I see that this time is about envisioning and revision. If I can learn from the chaos of my childhood and let it inform me of the ways to simplify, then it was worth it. The tenuous (at best) relationship with my father, and the string of romantic relationships that made me feel like a failure... I can't change my past, but I can change the context in which I perceive it. It grants me the time and space to endlessly explore the kind of person I would want to be, the kind of person I do think is worth staying with...

If I get this second chance at a new body, a new name, a new context within society (even within circles of family and friends) ~ then who do I want to be? Some fearful, insecure, desperate person hoping that no one will leave me because I am trans and too weird or fucked up to be loved? Fuck no... Without realizing it, I have already changed "the tapes." There are still more to reinvent, but I am ready for the challenge.

I wouldn't have known how resilient I am unless I had been forced out of the nest of comfort and familiarity. It has been the hardest year of my life in all ways possible. And yet the only one that convinced me that I will thrive.

Thank fucking goodness for all that challenges us, as it reminds us what is most important in our lives~if we simply remember to listen to it.

This is an homage ~ to all that pushes us the most. May we learn from those struggles, and allow it to open us up to relief just beyond the pain.

Bon courage, g.

The Name Game

So, for the past few days I have been trying to deduce the exact procedure for changing both my name and gender on all of my documents and id's (local & federal.) Tricky, to say the least. With the help of a few trans guys from my group, and a few super funny District workers~I think I have cracked the code. Which means ~ now I have to pick a damn name! Yikes!

I had to get a letter from my top surgeon stating that she "successfully completed sex reassignment surgery" for ________. (insert new name here/then in parentheses insert given name listed on orignal birth certificate.) So, while talking to Nurse Betty at my surgeon's office, I had to give her the new name to put on the notarized letter. I chose "Will Alexander Warren" in a pinch, and she said it would be possible to change later if necessary.



Here are some of the options:
Will Alexander Warren ("Willie" was my great-grandfather's name/where subsequent generations took the nick names "Bill" & "Billy" / "Alexander" was my folks' first choice for my brother's name - with the nickname "Alec" but then they figured Alexander Iacovelli was mean to give to a little kid... And "Warren" was my mother's maiden name.)

More importantly to me, WILL is what it took to get me here: pure "will" power and focused desire. It is the name that really fits for the symbolism of this transition. Also, the name WARREN means "defender" ~ which I really love. My interest in fighting for the underdog my whole life, my work in Conflict Resolution, etc. ("Lexi" is in reference to one of my guy friends from college, this burly British man's man who played rugby and studied the classics. He drove an old Toyota Landcruiser, which he then sold for an even older Mercedez Benz suv from the 1970s. So hott! That is my reference to the name Lexi, not all of the 9 year old girls with that nickname running around during recess...)

other options:
Elias
Lucien/Lucian "Luc"
Milos (pronounced: Milosh)
Augusten/Augustus
Lars
Liam


then ones that seemed fun when I was still on a ton of narcotics post-op:
Linus
Erol
Lazlo
Otto
Teo
Timo
Noam
Rowan
Lanier
Rex
Asher
Watts
Noell
Argus
Samuel