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