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Thailand: A Diverse Epiphany
She was standing at the end of the food counter gathering food from the serving dish onto her plate. She was wearing a pretty yellow dress with lace along the top of it. Her beautiful blonde hair laid down beyond her shoulders, and her face was lightly dotted with freckles that contrasted with the lightness of her skin.
She walked towards me, and when she arrived where I was standing, in front of the chef making omelets, she asked me, “Is he cooking your food?” Her smooth, feminine, British accent was a nice sound to my ears. I told her yes, that he was making my ham and cheese omelette. Turns out she had ordered the same thing before me and he was actually cooking her breakfast. Once she received it she said, “Nice talking to you. Enjoy your breakfast.” She walked away and headed to her table to sit down and eat her food.
I continued around the breakfast line, looking for various items of food that I was interested in trying. At the end of a long row of tables sat a young Finnish girl who was tall, with long brown hair, and glasses. She reminded me much of the bookworm that was always sitting alone in the school cafeteria, the kind that nobody seemed interested in associating with. She was very quiet and solemn. She sat tall, but you would not know it by her hunched over shoulders. She quietly ate her breakfast and then quickly left to go back to her hotel room.
I went back to my table and sat down where my friend was eating her breakfast. I noticed two young women come into the breakfast area and proceed to where the coffee was. They were having issues with the coffee machine and were interacting with a waiter who was helping them get what they needed. They began to walk around the breakfast area viewing all the different types of food available to them. Both women were dressed very conspicuously. Each of them was wearing a very short skirt with very tight tops. One of them actually had a full one piece dress. The one wearing the shortest skirt seemed out of place but I could not put my finger on it. Her hair was slightly ratty and her figure was very slim and straight like a board. The more I observed these two women, the more I was able to put my finger on what I was unsure of earlier. In the end, the lack of food on one of their plate settings tipped me off as to who she was and why she was sitting there.
The beautiful french girl on the other side of the room did not stand out to anybody else. She was conversing with her interpreter and every time she interacted with a staff member of the hotel, her interpreter was there by her side. She was dressed very nicely and would be what I would call a classy lady. Her long dark hair was done very nicely and seemed to be styled properly. She did not appear to wear too much makeup but enough for her to accent her feminine features.
There I sat, eating my breakfast, in my denim capris, gold studded, dark gray top, and white sandals. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail and I was not wearing any makeup. In fact, I was probably two days late for a shave. As I set there consuming my breakfast, a thought crossed my mind and I began to ponder the attributes of all these people, including myself.
Five different people. 5 different walks of life. Ages that ranged from older teenager all the way up to middle age and perhaps beyond. At least three continents of culture represented in that moment. The one common factor that brought them all together was a medical anomaly that caused their brains to be wired one way while their bodies formed a different way. In one moment I felt connected to every single one of those people, and in the next moment I realized that the rest of the world was absolutely wrong.
I have heard people say that it is a mental condition. I have heard people call others like me, delusional. Some have even gone as far as to say it is simply the result of a sexual fetish, molestation, or an addiction to pornography. I cannot speak for the 4 other people and their experiences in their lives, but I can speak for me and I know that none of those things are true. I was never a victim of any form of molestation. I had 2 parents who I lived with and who loved me unconditionally. I was never abandoned or smothered by my mother or my father, and I now know I was never addicted to pornography.
While I do not know why I was chosen, it was so wonderful to see this condition affect others across cultures, people groups, and continents. To know that I was not alone in my journey, and the very anomalies that make me who I am, are also in other people all across the world. My God is a diverse creator. He knows when we all wake up and when we lie down. He knows the number of hairs on every single one of our heads, and he commands the new ones that grow back or disappear when hormones are changed. My God has given the knowledge to the surgeons that help us to remodel our bodies so that they may match our minds, and allow us a more consistent and better quality of life. He controls the cells that regenerate to help me heal the best that I can.
Like Jesus said to Pilate, nothing happens without my Father’s permission, and I am thankful that He has blessed me in this place, in this time. Of all the places in the world, and of all the time in human history, I am here, now. To God be the glory of this diversity.
Levels of Acceptance
I am still sitting in awe of the weekend I had, the people I got to see, and finally being free to be me, with said people, for the first time.
Saturday, my high school graduation class celebrated 20 years since we graduated. It was a wonderful event at a local venue owned by one of our classmates. Our student council president helped organize the event and it went off without any problems.
As wonderful as the event was orchestrated and performed, that is not what got to me the most. What got to me was watching people interact with me for the first time as my true self. It was something that was truly amazing because I really wasn’t sure what to expect. For all I knew, I could’ve ended up dead in an alley.
Lucky for me, that wasn’t the case. In fact, just the opposite was true. I was embraced with loving arms from people who know me from Facebook, people who had interacted with me in the last year, and people who haven’t seen me in 10 or even 20 years.
All of this got me thinking about the different levels of acceptance I have experienced during the last 2 years of my life. I have been completely rejected and called names like crazy, disturbed, demon-possessed, delusional, and more. I’ve been ignored as people move on, silently refusing to even talk to me anymore. I’ve been told that I’m wrong, but I’m free to live my own life. I’ve been tolerated as I move through transition, and I’ve been embraced, loved on, and told just how beautiful I am.
Ironically, I’ve seen so much more of the latter level than I expected and I would say less than 20% of all the other levels. That, in and of itself, is mind boggling to me. The kicker of all of it is that the very ones who have rejected me are the ones who are commanded to love on me.
So at my 20 year class reunion, I was hugged, told how beautiful I am, how happy people are for me, how they are proud of me for being myself, and how they wished me good luck as I reach out for the new milestone I am embarking on right now. I was authentic. I was me. I also found out that I actually know how to dance and I really do enjoy doing it. Perhaps it’s time for some real dance lessons…lol.
Here’s to another 20 years of living authentically with new found friendships, with old friends, in a new stage of life.
Carpe Diem.
Are You Really Loving Someone?
I wasn’t sure if I was going to post any blog topic regarding the Leelah Alcorn tragedy, but I was reading another person’s blog post and they asked a question similar to the one that I have been philosophizing in my head for almost a year now. Here’s the question I’ve pondered…
If it’s not received as love, are you really loving someone?
Now I can hear some of you quickly jumping to “Of course it is.” The jump is so quick in fact, that it’s almost as if there’s a loud rushing of air to fill the vacuum left from the place in which you just were. However, I understand the perspective of how a parent can love a child by not allowing them to do something dangerous (like play in the street due to the danger it can provide…believe me, I know, I have 5 children) and the child not accepting that action as the parent loving them. You are correct in that the parent does love them.
But that’s not the love I’m talking about.
There is a book/concept that is pushed heavily in the church (specifically to married couples) called “The 5 Love Languages”. The first time I read it, it was for a couples small group for church for the specific purpose of knowing how to effectively communicate my love to my spouse. It wasn’t enough in marriage to actually just love my spouse, but I had to continually express that love to them through my actions. To complicate matters more, I don’t get to express it in ways that make sense to me. Nooooo. I have to express it in a language that my spouse understands (even if it’s not natural for me to express that language).
The book is marital gold because the concepts in the book actually work, if you do them. They are so successful that the author has taught people how to use the love languages to communicate love to others (like your children or teenagers). Now we know that the love I express to my spouse is going to be different than the love I will express to my children and that love doesn’t have to have anything to do with safety or what they can and can not do. So obviously when I’m asking the question I asked above, I’m not referring to romantic love. I am not referring to friendly love or even “safety” love. The love I’m referring to is different. It’s the love that says, “I care so much about you, that I would give my life for you.”
Agape love.
Agape love, self-sacrificing love, can and is communicated from one human to another billions of times each day on this planet. We don’t always see it, but it’s there and we’re either telling people we love them, or we’re not. This is where my question comes in and ultimately how it ties into Leelah’s life.
If there is one thing I’ve seen through and through on news articles and blogs, it is this sort of disdain by the LGBT crowd toward Christians. Imagine my conundrum being both transgender AND a disciple of Christ. Talk about awwwwkwaaard. But really they don’t dislike “Christians”, they dislike religious zealots. Who can blame them? Even Jesus didn’t like the religious zealots who chose the letter of the law over the spirit of the law (healing on the Sabbath anyone?). However, in their own zealotry to crucify Leelah’s parents in our socially driven world, there is an ounce of truth to LGBT people screaming of how Leelah’s parents don’t really know the meaning of unconditional love.
So here’s where I draw my parallel and tie this together.
I can love my spouse. I can tell them day in and day out that I love them so much, but if I don’t express it in a love language they speak, they will think that I don’t love them because I don’t really show it to them (from their perspective). In other words, my actions are not resonating with my spouse and thus “love” is not being communicated. What’s worse is if I tell my spouse I love them, and then turn around and treat them with contempt because they aren’t living life the way I think they should, there’s a good chance I’m gonna end up divorced (and I have experience with this…I had a spouse…now I’m divorced).
Leelah’s parents said they loved her, but their actions screamed the total opposite (from her perspective). Maybe they tried a thousand different ways to get through to Leelah that they wanted to help her figure this out. Maybe they really did isolate her and put the iron fist down that some Christians seem to think is still okay in a post-sacrificial, grace-filled world.
I have yet to read a news article or see an interview containing her parent’s testimony or her remaining blog and journal and online posts where it shows that they all sat down together and said, “we don’t even know where to begin with this, so let’s figure this out together, talking to a slew of different people with differing experience and information from all angles”, but the event is still very young and fresh in the world and time will reveal more details. The problem is that, like divorce, death has a bit of finality and it is sort of hard to take back the damage done.
So in our lives (and especially with those of us who call ourselves Christians), if we’re not properly communicating love to the person we’re trying to love (or actually do love), then I can’t help but wonder if we’re really loving them at all?
Maybe That’s the Point
Lately we’ve seen a surge of articles and blog posts about the SBC and their beliefs and how they are persisting those beliefs all the way down to the very people who attend their churches. Also in the same space, I’m seeing a lot of Christians coming out of the closets for the first time. My own brothers and sisters being strengthened to make known their true, God-created, identity, no matter what the body looks like. I can’t help but wonder…
When churches fought to keep slavery, I bet there was a surge of Christians who believed otherwise. When churches fought to keep women quiet, I bet there was a surge of Christians who believed otherwise. When churches fought to deny voting rights to women and minorities, I bet there was a surge of Christians who believed otherwise. When churches fought to keep the minority groups from having the same basic opportunities as their majority counterparts, I bet there was a surge of Christians who believed otherwise.
Since I’ve been born and attending church, none of those fights have existed for me. They all seem to be old relics of the past, a fight that the church no longer fights because it has realized how it was oppressing others for it’s misguided interpretation of scriptures. Now, I still see them fighting against LGB people and yet some have come to their senses and said, “Hmm, maybe we read that wrong. Let’s go back and take a look.” I still see them fighting against trans people (I know, I’m one of their victims) and yet some have come to their senses and revisited the scriptures in light of new medical information.
I can’t help but wonder if perhaps the surge of Christians who are gay or trans is simply God’s way of showing the oppressors just what they’re doing. When I see a fellow brother or sister, strong in the faith, having studied to show themselves approved, showing their true identity in Christ, I get a little more encouraged that perhaps one day, the church will treat us like they finally treat the free slaves, the women, the minorities.
Until then I can’t help but wonder if we (my LGBT brothers and sisters in Christ) were put in this very place, at this very time, created this very way to simply help make the body of Christ a healthier group.
Maybe that’s the point.
Thank God for Samaritans
I was sitting in church recently and one of the scripture passages used by the pastor was Luke 10:30-34. In a sentence, it’s the passage of the good Samaritan. But for those who want to read it, let me include it here.
30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. 34 He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him.
As I sat there, reading this over and over, I got this interesting thought that cropped up. I am the person who fell among robbers and the people who have been there to help me up might actually surprise you. Then again, maybe not.
I didn’t ask to be born a transsexual. I didn’t ask to be blessed with the gift of gender dysphoria anymore than the man going from Jerusalem to Jericho asked to be robbed and beat and stripped and left for dead. Who wants that? Who asks for that? No one does.
Okay Ashley, so what’s the point?
The point is the prophetic statement in Jesus’ own words about people of his time and, lo and behold, people 2000 years later in a place 1/2 a world away.
Jesus mentioned 3 people. A priest. A Levite. A Samaritan. Let’s look at them and then I’ll show you the parallels.
The priest mentioned was a Levite as all priests were Levites. This would’ve been a man of God who knew the Torah inside and out and even the rest of the Old Testament. He knew the law. He knew it was good to follow the laws of God.
The Levite was of the same tribe, but wasn’t necessarily a priest. Levites were in charge of duties connected with the tabernacle. They were also involved with interpreting the law and teaching as well. They too would’ve known what God’s Law said concerning a matter such as this.
The Samaritan was the sworn enemy of the Jews. Samaritans and Jews had been fighting for hundreds of years and so for Jesus to talk about a Samaritan being the hero of the story while making the Levites look bad would’ve been one of the many causes that made them want to crucify him.
My Experience
As I sat there listening to the pastor talk, I slowly drifted off into my own head seeing a different, yet parallel playing out of this story. I am the person who was robbed and beat up and stripped, by my own medical condition. I am a Christian. I have over 400 “friends” on Facebook but I’d bet maybe 30 of them would reach out and help me if I needed it. What’s worse, those 30 most likely aren’t the Christians even though 75% of my friends list claim to know Christ.
I actually had pretty good relationships with many of the leadership at my church. I was actually on the leadership team for a given area of service in the church and had been for almost 6 years. It’s not like I was some stranger they never met and didn’t know my angle or my heart. I could’ve called on any of them and said, “Can we go get coffee?”, and they would’ve gladly done it. They were always liking my statuses and commenting on my posts. I felt the love from it (and considering what my love languages are, it mattered).
When I told them of my condition and how I struggled hard with the decision to accept treatment no matter the consequences, they pretty much turned their backs on me. They didn’t outwardly say a single bad thing to me, they just all silently walked away. No nods in the hall, no more liking or commenting. It was like I wasn’t good enough for their love anymore. I wasn’t worthy. They told me to take some time off from serving and they never really asked me if I was ready to come back. In fact, they replaced me so I really didn’t have anywhere to come back to.
Just like the men of God in Luke 10 knew the right thing to do and turned their noses, crossed to the other side, and avoided the beat up man, it seems most of my Christian friends found better things to do with their time than spend it with me.
However, since I came out on Facebook, where the whole world could see me for the real me, I’ve had a ton of Samaritan friends pop up and treat me like royalty. The world (aka. non-believers) actually stopped and bandaged my wounds. They chat with me, like my statuses, comment, and are there for me if I called and said, “I need to talk.” Remember, these are the people that the church says I’m not supposed to interact with. We’re supposed to be in the world, but not of it. They resound their shocking awe, “You went WHERE with them? Oh a good Christian wouldn’t go to those places.” I have been following Jesus for 20+ years, I know what love feels like and I know when it’s been pulled away from me because I don’t fit the mold someone else thinks I should fit. I have felt so much love and compassion from the world than I have from the church and it sort of became obvious in that moment as the pastor read that scripture of the Good Samaritan.
I can only guess and try to interpret and learn what Jesus was trying to say to his audience that day when he told that parable. For me, He was speaking into my heart and saying, “I see you there. This is nothing new to me. Man has always been religious and holier than thou, and it doesn’t matter how much society and cultures change, some people will always think they’re better than others. I’m with you and I love you and my love will reach you, even if through the most unsuspecting channels.”
Christians are supposed to be more loving than the world. We’re called to love others as we love ourselves. Thank God for His grace because some of us have totally missed that mark.
HRT Month 1:
Well, today marks the end of the first month of being on my HRT.
How do I feel? GREAT!!!
I’ve honestly never felt better. The biggest change I’ve noticed the entire month is that my depression and anxiety is all gone and anything I experience now is purely situational. I do not wake up in the morning dreading getting out of bed merely because I exist. I do not sit at my desk all day, struggling to even lift a finger and begin typing. I am now actively going after my work and getting things done, which is a welcomed relief. Now is the time to start administratively organizing myself and see if I can’t really get some amazing traction. My doctor also just doubled my dose of Estrogen so I am supposed to really start seeing fireworks soon.
The past week has been a whirlwind. My therapist suggested that I pick one area of my life and start truly living full time in it, so I picked Sunday and church. Our last church was a great church. I’m sad that we had to leave it, but I also know that my wife and I could not continue going to a church that not only didn’t understand our situation, but refused to understand it and accept it for what it is. Because I chose to heal myself and live a more authentic life in how God made me, they would not allow me to serve at the church anymore. So we decided that it would be best not to be wasting our spiritual lives at a place that would not only treat us like unbelievers, but would also not allow us to serve God with them.
So this past Sunday, we decided to visit a new church, an accepting and welcoming church. I decided they would never know the male me, only the female me. So off we went, and it went VERY well. We even got asked to come to a small group near where we live. Now I will get to spend 2 days a week as myself instead of just the 1 and then there’s the occasional get together with friends so some weeks will consist of 3 days as myself. Before I know it, every day will be lived just as me. So exciting.
I still feel dysphoric when I have to switch back and I don’t think that will fix itself until I am full time. I also feel very fake having to do a lot of work to just be me. When I’m in girl mode, I can lay on the bed, watch TV and seeing myself from the neck down just feels so natural. However at some point I have to look in the mirror and see that I still look the same and that’s the part that makes me feel fake. I feel like I’m dressing up in a costume to be someone else, but in reality I’m just trying to be me. However, until I can make my hair more permanently long and can really shape my face, I’ll just have to suck it up.
I built a timeline for charting my progress with what I’ve left to do, what I’ve done and how much I’ve spent. I’m afraid I’m gonna cringe when I see the final on that last one, but then again, God gave the green light and I know He’ll provide all along the way. I will have a small, but powerful milestone, in about 6 weeks and if I can get everything worked out, another one 2-3 months after that. My goal is to go full time by August/September so let’s see if I can make it happen.
Until next time. God bless.
Giving Thanks
Giving thanks is something I do every day so I don’t really need a holiday to remind me to do it. However, I do like the camaraderie that comes with being with family and having lots of good food. In fact, if I could have my way, I’d create a whole city with all my friends and family to live in where we could live free (as the founders intended) and I would be surrounded by all my family. Some might say I’m crazy or would rethink it if my family was around me 24/7 but I love being around family.
This Thanksgiving has been a little bit different as some family members now know what C & I struggle with, have struggled with and will be struggling with as we move forward in life.
The first thanks goes out to C. I was really concerned we would be divorced because she wasn’t sure she could live with another woman, be married to another woman and have that be her life. At the same time, neither of us wanted our marriage to end so we had some good talks, some good cries and went into the holiday season not knowing what the future held. However, right before we left to go out of town, C wrote me a card (a very sweet loving card) that simply said that she believed in love and the beauty of our love and wasn’t going anywhere ever. She was willing to walk this road with me and that means so much more to me than anything else.
I’m also thankful for my brother. I am going to officiate his wedding in March 2014 and I wanted him to have all the information about me before he really committed to having me do that. His reason for me officiating is because he looks up to my marriage with C and looks up to me as a leader and a great public speaker (I’m not a great speaker, I just don’t glaze things over and that resonates with some people). However, if C and I were going to end up going down the big D road, I wanted him to know that what he looked up to wasn’t as great as he thought it was. Needless to say, he was very cool about it, so was his fiance and it looks like I’ve got a wedding to prepare for now.
I’m grateful for my MIL (mother-in-law). She has actually been down this road (sort of) and so we did talk a little bit over the holidays. I know she doesn’t understand me or the whole thing, but she is really smart (she works in I.T.) and I know with the right information, she’ll come to understand me and maybe even get used to having a daughter-in-law. Her husband (C’s dad) turned out to be gay and they ended up divorced about the same timing as C & I. She had a lot of insight into what that feels like and she too has grown herself up over the years. I’m thankful that she can share her experience with me and I’m thankful that she’s not afraid of life anymore.
My sister-in-law (and my brother-in-law) both know what C & I struggle with now, but they are more of the traditional christians and I’m not sure when (or if) they’ll come around to understand and cheer us on. I’m still thankful for them because they are going to test us, push us, question us and pursue the truth with us. They haven’t said they would, but I know them and they will ask questions, questions that will require us to find answers to. Their hearts for Christ are in line with mine and with C’s and it will be a good time of iron sharpening iron. I’m thankful for them and all they are. They are some of the very people I would miss being around if my marriage ended (or if they didn’t want us in their lives).
I’m thankful for my parents, but I haven’t told them about all C & I struggle with (well my mom sort of knows, but not to the detail that I now know). I love them and I know they will not stop loving us, but I’m not sure how they will react. Heck, I don’t even know what I’m doing with this. On the one hand, I’d like to transition completely and start living my life as I see myself, but on the other hand, I’m afraid that I’ll get to the other side of the fence and I’ll still not feel like me. Then what? Well, that’s another post for another time. Right now I’ve got one more thanks.
I’m thankful for the hands of God reaching out for me almost 20 years ago and showing me that I needed a savior. Jesus is my reason for the season and one that I could not ever give enough thanks for. I know God has called me to a new life and I know that I must trust and follow Him no matter what the outcome. I’m thankful that He has chosen me to work for Him and I look forward to the next 10,000+ years of following, trusting and worshipping him in all I do. Thank you Lord.
I hope you all have a great holiday season and here’s to new life and being thankful for it.
A Weekend of Me
It’s been a while since I posted something meaningful about my transgender life so I think I’ll take this time to update everyone on how I’ve been.
To start, I’ve been going to therapy for about a month now. It’s been pretty good. My therapist is helping me work through issues of just being myself and not trying to focus on what the rest of the world thinks (or what I think they’re thinking). I’ve been more comfortable being me, going out in public a bit more and shopping for the clothes I like no matter which department they are in. It’s definitely gotten easier.
This past weekend was really great because I was able to go out into public and just be me. It all started on Thursday night. We grabbed dinner at a small local cafe. Was pretty good. I had a club sandwich that was about the size of my head. I only ate 1/2 of it. After dinner, we headed over to the local hangout of the transgender group in our city. It was the first time they got to see me as myself instead of my normal assigned gender. It was great hanging out, not being judged or feeling like everyone was staring at me and we had some good conversations about all kinds of things (even religion and politics…imagine that). We wanted to stay longer than we could, but had to get back home to let the sitter leave.
Friday, Grandma came and stayed with the kids for the weekend while we got away. We went and grabbed a hotel room, I got dressed up in some nice tight jeans (love me some shapely jeans), a simple black top with a design around the neckline and my black boots. Got my face and hair all nice and neat and we went out for some delicious asian food. We ate at a nice little place next to a couple of the LGBT clubs in our town so while a few people did get their fair share of “oogling” me, it was pretty much a non-event, and went pretty much as expected.
Saturday, during the day, we went out shopping and grabbed a movie, but then we met up with our local transgender group for dinner at a local restaurant. There was 18 of us there. It was good. I spent a good amount of the evening talking with another transwoman who had over 100 pair of shoes (she really likes shoes…hehe). It was some of the best 2 hours of my life because I didn’t feel like I was out of place and I was being myself. After dinner we went through the Starbucks drive-thru where I was ma’am-ed at both the speaker and the window. Felt really good that someone was addressing me as I saw myself through my own eyes. We were invited to go back to one of the group member’s house for a night of board games, but I was pretty worn out from all we did that day (and I have children so I’m not young and want to stay up all night), so we just headed back to the hotel where we relaxed and watched some TV (love me some Will & Grace marathon).
Sunday morning we got up, had breakfast and laid around the hotel until checkout time in which we headed home putting an end to our weekend without children. Will be nice to do it again sometime, but I guess it’s back to putting on my dysphoria until I can take it off again.
The Wrong Question
When I started cross-dressing, there was a little voice inside my head that said, “Don’t do this.” I asked God if He would take away my desire to cross-dress. He didn’t.
When I was in the midst of a sexual relationship with a friend, that little voice inside my head said, “Boys are supposed to like girls.” I asked God if He would take away my desire for this relationship. He didn’t.
Then I came to realize that God wanted my heart, wanted me to follow him, wanted me to accept Jesus into my heart and trust Him with my life. I felt Him calling me and I asked Jesus to take away my sin, and HE DID!!!
The funny thing about sin, it always comes crawling back, like the black ooze from the X-Files. It infects you, darkens your heart, eats away at you, sucks the love out of you. God can not exist with sin but Jesus defeated sin when He died on the cross AND rose from the grave. Since I gave my own life up in exchange for the life He promised me, He now stands in the gap between me and the Father at judgement. When the Father looks on me, He sees Jesus, perfection, ergo, I passed from death to life. But this world is broken, along with all the people in it and while I won’t be judged for the sin in my life, that sin still exists, and it shows up in me everyday and therefore, I continued to experience things in my life that I regarded as sin.
So the things I regarded as sin, came back and again, here I was, cross-dressing and enjoying my time all dressed up and no where to go, and again, there was that voice, “You’re not supposed to be doing this.” I asked God, if I’m your child, and my life is now yours, will you please take this desire away? He didn’t.
This struggle goes on and on for many more years and finally I was getting married. Here is my chance to rid myself of this once and for all. After all, I must be doing it for the sexual thrill since that’s what the world thinks cross-dressers do. I never stopped and thought about WHY cross-dressing was a strong desire for me, I just took what I thought I knew based on the way the world looks at something and put that on as my mask. But after I get married, I’ll have sex all the time, be satisfied and not need to do this any more. I remember being dressed up in our first apartment, our first house, our second house, yada, yada, yada. Of course that voice was still there saying, “You’re married, you don’t need to do this. You’re not supposed to do this.” I asked God to please take this away from me so I don’t have to do it anymore. He didn’t.
Yeah, this trend goes on and on for many more years and in May of 2013, I came out to C about my history of cross-dressing. Sure I had told her before, but I don’t think she understood just how deep it was. I had to come out because my dysphoria had come to the surface more than it ever had in the past. Needless to say, I begged God to please take this away from me. My life has been His almost 20 years now and I was still fighting it. For 3 more months I wrestled with God begging Him to take it, remove it, I don’t want it if it is going to cause me this much anguish. I pretty much got to the point where I couldn’t fight any more.
C was telling me to fight it, the lady counseling me was telling me to fight it, everything in my head was telling me to fight it, but I felt like laying down and dying. I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t have the strength to fight it and I wasn’t going to fight it anymore because I couldn’t. I was giving up. It was out of my hands. August 2, 2013, I had a nervous breakdown. I cried for hours straight. I sat on my couch and stared into oblivion for hours. I didn’t talk to anyone. I went to bed. I was exhausted.
In my moments of wrestling with God, arguing, blaming Him for not taking away my “sin”, I asked a different question than I normally ask. For the first time, in my entire life, I didn’t ask him to take away my desire, I asked him, “Why did you make me like this?” Yeah, this is what I heard.
“There is an entire community of people who I created, that I love, that I want to know me, that I want to be in a loving relationship with. I want to show them love like they’ve never seen before. I want to take away their sin. I want to heal their wounds. I want them to live with me forever. The world has cast them aside because they don’t understand them. They’ve been shoved down because they aren’t like everyone else. I want them to know I am still here. I made you this way in order to be an ambassador for me to them. I made you in the same way I made them so that they can see that I love them just as much as I love you. I want them to experience the peace you’ve experienced. I want them to experience the life transformation that you’ve experienced. I want to be in community with them like I am in community with you. I will transform you. I will reshape you like the potter reshapes the clay to form it into a new vessel for a new purpose. I will give you everything you need to enter their world, but I want to use you so that they may know me.”
Yeah, it came as a shock to me too.
What?!?!?!!!!
You had a plan!?!?!!!!?
A purpose!?!!!!!?
This whole time!!!?!!??!!
Why didn’t you tell me!!?!!!?!!?!
I came to realize that had He told me long ago, I might have not believed Him. I might not have walked a path that gave me the tools I needed to be where I am today. I might not have had access to the people and resources I do today. I don’t think I would’ve been married to C (however, since I believe that our marriage was a TOTAL God thing, it may have happened anyway).
I’m not sure why I asked that question that day, but I did, and God had no problem answering me right away. It’s like His timing is impeccable. So now I stand on a path before me, taking one step at a time. My lamp is lighting just enough of the path in front of my feet and I am trusting God, like I always have, that he will not leave me or forsake me.
Shedding Shadows 