4 posts from April 2009

---

Story 1:  "Two Unpredictable Forces"

When my friend Joel called me last Tuesday, April 21st, asking if I wanted to go to a Sox game with him, it brought lots of memories into my head.  It was one year to the day that I had won tickets at my job and brought him to a game.  I remember that it was Patriots Day, and so the game was early in the morning. I had broken my nose playing softball the day before.  The Texas Rangers started Kason Gabbard as a pitcher - a pitcher who had been traded to the Rangers from the Red Sox - and got hurt in the third inning allowing Boston to crush Texas.  My friend Bryan had come up from Connecticut to visit for a few days.  I was three months into hormones and really insecure about the way I looked.  What were the odds that the friend that I had brought would win tickets one year to the day and invite me to watch another game?

The best part was that Tim Wakefield was pitching.  Tim Wakefield is literally the reason I got into sports.  I can watch him throw knuckleballs forever and not get sick of it.  Despite being horribly inconsistent throughout his career, he was coming off of his best game in a long time (8 innings of no-hit pitching) and I was looking forward to cheering for him in person.  I like the unpredictability of Wake's knuckleball because it's always interesting and fun and risky, even if it leads to a bad game here or there - from what I've been told, this is evidence that I can pass a female sports fan :)

For all that I like the way that the knuckleball keeps batters guessing, I don't like the way mother nature does the same thing when I have Red Sox tickets.  I picked Joel up after work and put all of my hope into the weather clearing up, but it didn't happen.  The game was postponed to the next afternoon - a time in which I couldn't get out of work.  Ouch.

It was sad to miss the game.  Wake pitched really well in a game that was cut short due to rain.  Sometimes, as I've learned through the course of the last few months, you just need to be realistic and accept things you can't change.  Easy come, easy go.

---

Story 2:  "Scamtrak"

In the case of Tuesday night, at least I took solidarity in knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could have done about it.  Weather is beyond my control.  The events of Sunday afternoon, though, could have 100% been avoided, and I get angry just thinking about it.

I had spent Saturday night in New York City with my family.  I'll go more into detail about this in the next story.  My friend Chris had gotten tickets from his father and had kindly offered to take me to the Sunday night Red Sox vs. Yankees series closer.  The Red Sox, even since Wake's near no-no, had been on fire and hadn't dropped a game.  In this game, they would have a chance to sweep their rivals in front of a Fenway Crowd.  Obviously, this was something I was looking forward to.

I looked online at the train schedule and saw a train leaving Penn Station at 1 o'lock, arriving in Boston at 5:45.  So far, so good.  I took a cab to Penn Station and got there with 30 minutes to spare.  I purchased a ticket (one way Boston to New York: $120) and waited patiently for the track information to appear on the "Departures" screen.  At first I grew nervous when they announced that my train was going to be 5 minutes late, but within five minutes they were boarding the train.  The train took off and I settled in, listening to music and playing Hearts on my laptop.

At some point, I noticed that the train was stopped.  I didn't worry too much about it at first.  However, when I realized that I had listened to a full 10-minute long song and we hadn't moved in that time, I started to grow concerned.  After more time passed, the conductor made an announcement that there was an issue with the train and that we had to go back to Penn Station.

At this point, my reaction was more disbelief than anything else.  This couldn't possibly be happening.  I tried my best to stay calm, knowing that I would still have time if I got back to Penn Station and took a bus.  I'd also be fine if they could get our train going by 3:00.  Amtrak announced that they needed to keep the doors to the train closed, and asked that we remained patient and calm.  Every ten minutes or so, they would announce that a diesel-powered locomotive was being attached to the front of the train, and that we'd be leaving anytime now.  By 4:00 - now three hours after the train was supposed to have left - I accepted that I would not be going to the game, and told Chris to take someone else (ironically, he went with Joel, the person who offered me the ticket from Story 1).

We didn't leave Penn Station until 4:15.  They announced that we would be leaving, and that unfortunately the power was out on the train so there would be no outlets or air conditioning.  This was the worst case scenario, as my phone, laptop, and ipod were all dying since I figured I could charge them on the train.  They got the air conditioner turned on at some point, which just sucked even more because all I had was a short-sleeve shirt.

I arrived at home a little bit before 10, just in time to see Jacoby Ellsbury steal home (the first steal home by a Red Sox in 15 years) on my television set.  Thanks Amtrak!

---

Story 3:  "Trading Locations With The Yankees"

Saturday was the first nice day in New England in a really long time, and I was completely eager to take advantage of it.  My priorities were called into question that morning, however, when my brother sent me a facebook message telling me that my father was having some more health issues and being rushed to Sloan.  I decided that I wanted to be there to show support for my family, and so I decided to take a train to New York City.  I arrived at Penn Station at 6pm or so and met up with my family in the hospital.

I didn't realize that the Sox-Yankees game was an afternoon game, so  I was surprised when I got to my father's hospital room and saw him watching the game.  Or, at least, looking at the game.  The score was 12-11 in the bottom of the 8th - apparently, there had been something like 8 lead changes and it was an absolutely exciting slugfest.  Because of this, I find it a bit difficult to decide how tough it was when I realized that my father - a diehard Sox fan - needed pain medication so strong from his cancer and chemotherapy that he wasn't even really following the game.  Later, in a conversation with my brother, he told me that he had asked my father what the score was, and he answered "2-2", which was the batter's count at the time.

He went up to get some X-Rays done and I went with him.  Twenty minutes later, I was surprised to see that the Sox were now winning 16-11.  Later that night, my father asked me if the Sox won and I told him that they did, and he seemed to understand me then.  "Good." was his reply.  Even though he's fighting alot and sometime is out of it, that served as a nice reminder that my dad is still here and I should appreciate it while I can - it's just a bit harder to communicate sometimes.  I stayed up with him for as long as I could that night - it isn't easy to put into words what that is like so I won't even try.

The topic of the Sox game came up again later that night when I was talking to my mother.  Apparently they had won tickets to that night's game in a raffle.  I knew that this had happened, but I didn't realize that tickets were for a Saturday night Sox/Yankees game.  I would have loved to have gone; even more importantly, I know my dad would have loved to have gone.  There was a point when, despite the fact that he was having trouble walking across his house, he was still convinced he was going to be able to go - that's how much he likes the Red Sox (and hates the Yankees).  The next thought that came to mind was the realization that my trips to Fenway with my dad are probably done - and this hurt alot.  I love going to Sox games with my dad.  I can still recite, with pretty remarkable accuracy, key events that happened at every game we went to together.

This was the game that hurt the most to miss out on.  This is weird, because I really didn't know that there was even a chance that I could go until after the game had ended.  At least in the first two cases, there was a feeling of something tangible that I lost out on.  I was able to get past those two games because they were caused by bad coincidences.  This game set a precedent - there will be no more father/daughter bonding outtings at Fenway anymore.  This 27-run amazing Red Sox/Yankees games was just the first in a line of "experiences that could have been".  Instead, the tickets were sold to help pay for the cost of treating cancer - it certainly isn't cheap, and I will admit that it was the best possible thing to do with the tickets.

I don't know if it's a way of coping with things or what, (and I'm sure living in Boston helps) but I'm finding myself a lot more into baseball now.  Maybe it's my subtle way of appreciating my dad - like a way of saying "that silly team in that silly sport that you've been obsessed with for as long as I can remember?  Me too".  I enjoy talking baseball a lot more. I enjoy thinking about it a lot more, I enjoy watching it a lot more, and I can only assume I'd enjoy playing it a lot more.  I've found that I can draw connections between baseball and all sorts of major events in my life, and that I have a ball doing so.  This is something that my dad has given me, and even if he continues to have health issues, I take solace in the fact that that won't ever change.

---

Pain, "Upright"

My plan for the weekend was a trip out to Philadelphia.  I have been feeling like I can now take some of the attention I was putting into transitioning and applying it to new life experiences; in this case, following a live band around for multiple shows on a tour.  I was going to spend Friday traveling (and a concert), Saturday exploring the city (and a concert), and Sunday I would head to CT for the day to visit my family (and at night, at concert).  A lot of travel, but I was really looking forward to the idea of meeting new people and doing new things.

Unfortunately, bad luck decided to intervene.  On Wednesday, I developed a pain in my gut - it basically felt like I was full (to the point where it was painful), all day.  I assumed that I had eaten something bad and that it would go away on it's own accord.  Thursday, it was still there and bad enough that I had to leave work.  When I woke up on Friday still in pain, I decided that the trip wasn't going to work out.  I had tried various things, from Tylenol to Tums to laxatives, and nothing really helped until I saw a doctor for it on Friday afternoon.  I'll spare the details because they're not entirely pleasant, but long story short she was able to help me out and I'm feeling better.  I'll be going to CT today, probably soon after I finish writing this post, so at least I'll still be able to see my parents and get one show in.

On a completely other note, here is something that has been running through my mind lately.

Probably something like 5 years ago, I went to a friend's barbeque and we played the Battle of the Sexes board game.  I hadn't taken any steps towards transition and wasn't out to everyone there, so I was put on the mens' team and kind of silently fumed about it.  I grew up really disliking and avoiding anything that would categorize me by gender - my best recourse to being stuck living as a guy was to not think about it, and these kind of activities would always really drive the point home.  Last night, I went to a friend's party where board games were being played, and we played Pictionary, boys against the girls.  This time, I was actually on the good team :) I had a great time even though our near-epic comeback didn't fully manifest into a victory.

Time moves forward, and the "do I pass?" stage of transition is pretty much complete.  This means that as my life goes forward, there are going to be more and more instances where people not knowing me as anything other than a woman.  Coworkers, friends of friends, new people that I get to know - every day, I'm expanding the pool of people who have never met me as anything other than Michelle.  Nobody at all took it for granted that I would be on the women's team; it just happened.  And just like being thrown on the guys' team way back when irked me in a way that I couldn't really express back then, the subtle "holy crap, people are taking it for granted that i'm a woman" moments that are inevitably arising are just the best things ever.

I don't know how many people are going to remember my fashion sense before I transitioned, but I used to have some really quirky tastes.  I had a lot of size L Hawaiian shirts, in most colors, and would wear them draped over me covering any sort of body shape I had.  I loved velvet pants and silken shirts, and had no issues wearing them together.  I let my hair grow for two years without really doing much of anything to it.  A lot of it is that I so badly didn't want to be seen as a typical guy that I was perfectly happy being unique.  These days, it's the opposite - if a stranger so much as calls me "ma'am", it will make me giddy for the rest of the night.  I no longer want to be unique so much as I want to be normal.  My interests used to consist of things like "Magic Cards" and "Laser Tag" and "Arcade Games" and "Computers".  They still do!  It's just that they take a backseat to things like "Clothes Shopping" and "Writing" and "Watching Baseball" and "Seeing Live Music".

I have spent the last three years of my life working for one company and growing accustomed to the life of an office employee.  My parents sold their old house, scaring me about the prospect of losing contact with my past - and a few months later, my father fell ill.  I took a huge risk in transitioning which has completely paid off so far, but has left me having to re-learn basic rules about how to function on a day-to-day basis.  It's a lot of stuff to deal with, but I feel like it's maturing me a lot.  Only recently have I started to feel comfortable with the idea that I'll be thirty soon - it's also the first time I've embraced the concept of maturation.  My thirties are looking to be a large improvement over my twenties, and I feel ready to meet the new challenges (and reap the rewards) that arise head-on.

In other words, life, for now, is under control.

My mindset has improved quite alot - thanks to everyone who reached out.  I feel like I say that all the time!  

Yesterday, I was thinking about marking down the dates where I feel particularly irritable, upset, or just sad to see if it is happening on a monthly basis.  Right there, I had an epiphany that should have been really obvious to me.  On Wednesday of last week, I ran out of estrogen pills.  As it was the beginning of the month and I had just paid rent, I  decided to wait until I was paid to refill my prescription.  I didn't end up getting to the pharmacy until Saturday afternoon.  This means that I ended up going three days without taking my pills.  I really didn't think it would affect me that much, but I'm starting to think I was wrong.  I have a newfound respect for people going through menopause (and puberty, and PMS) because hormonal shifts have a huge affect on a lot of stuff and aren't easy to deal with at all.

Obviously, the stress regarding my father is quite real, and I'm not making an excuse for it because I don't feel that I have to or even should.  What happened is that the rest of my life started taking hits that were associated with me being stressed.  Small things at work that honestly happen all the time started making me really angry, which started a sort of snowball effect (my life got disorganized, I didn't really want to socialize with people, I wasn't really having much fun with anything) where I was really unhappy for a few days.  The drive home from my parents (which was complete with Easter traffic) was really bad for me - I touched on a little of it in the post that I wrote that night, but couldn't even finish writing what I was thinking because I just felt completely drained.  The good news was that it was the first time in months that I had fallen asleep before midnight - I think that helped out too, because sleep deprivation hasn't been kind to me.

On Monday, I wrote a pretty lengthy email to my brother that just laid out, in full honesty, how upset I was.  It wasn't easy to write at all; there is a lot of stuff going on that I'm actually (for once) not comfortable going into full detail about in this blog.  When I was done, I decided to hold off on sending it for a couple of days.  I came back a few hours later and felt a lot better with life in general.  I honestly think that the only two things that I really needed were (a) to write everyone out at least once, and (b) to get back on schedule with my hormones.

Yesterday was the first day in a week where I was genuinely in a good mood again.  I got some nice work done, I jogged a mile, I did my taxes, I started socializing with people again - basically, I started getting life on track a bit.  I have Friday and Monday off of work and am going to be taking a journey to Philadelphia to catch some music - this is exactly what I think I need to release some stress and just have fun.  Of course, there will be the lingering issues associated with my being transgendered and socializing, but that stuff honestly seems easier and easier with each passing day and my plan right now is to just have fun and not think about it.  I miss when trans- issues were the scariest thing I had to go through :)

It's time to get ready for work.  Two more days, and then it's off to a lovely four-day-weekend.  Good times.

First and foremost, my father's condition has been steadily declining.  For the sake of privacy I won't go into too much detail, but I will state the obvious: it sucks.  The whole situation just sucks.  There's no one to blame, there's nothing that could have been done about it, and it's not obvious at all what I'm supposed to do to get through it.  Interestingly, I used to say the same thing about being transgendered before I transitioned, but in that case I at least had most of the control in terms of achieving what I wanted.

I first found out about my father's health exactly two months ago today.  I remember it because it was Friday the 13th, and it certainly lived up to its reputation as an unlucky day.  In those two months, I've been going through a whole gambit of emotions, and I wanted to use this post to get some of them out there so I could hopefully stop beating myself up.

Guilt.  Holy crap, that's a huge one.  Even writing this post feels incredibly selfish to me.  I feel bad when I think about it, but then I feel bad if I don't think about it.  Whenever I'm playing a video game or watching a movie, I start to think about how much pain my father is in, or how taxing it must be for my mother (and to a lesser but certainly not insignificant extent, my brothers) to be tending to him every day.  With my father's health as a huge exception, my life is pretty good right now, and I'm somehow feeling bad about this.

Apathy.  There are a lot of aspects of my life that just don't feel important to me.  My room is a mess.  Who cares?  Someone's mouse is broken at work and they have to push really hard and try like three times to right-click.  Who cares?  Taxes are due soon, my car is going to be due for an oil change, I have bills to pay, I need a lot more sprin clothes...and yet I'm having trouble getting the motivation to pay attention to these things.  A month ago I was really excited at the prospect of focusing on a career path and possibly going back to school.  I was really gung-ho about scheduling my surgery.  I wanted to travel a lot and meet new people and start working on dating.  All of it just seems like a big laundry list of tasks that I don't feel like doing right now.

Withdrawl.  What's the best way to deal with the above emofions?  Not thinking about them.  I go home each weekend, and my family asks what's new with me, and I have nothing to tell them because I'm not doing anything.  I go home from work, feeling really tired, and attempt to turn off my negative thought patterns with mindless fun.  TV is great for this, as are video games and the internet.  I haven't really been social lately.  Also, I've been experiencing insomnia for the last month as a result - when I'm laying down in bed, that's when my brain usually kicks into overdrive and I can't sleep.