It's my first Father's Day and my first post in a long time. I think that I was seriously unprepared for how exhausting being a dad is in these first few months. My son is the most amazing beautiful creature and holding him lights me up in every possible way. When he's not inexplicably crying (wailing) and refusing to nap.
There have been ups and downs, in regards to family and friends, but mostly ups. We have had some great support from friends and family in ways that make me feel guilty for being so loved. Trying to open my heart to receive has been harder than I thought and I think is something I'm going to have to work on for a while.
More later - time to drink some coffee and maybe get some brunch in (as long as he isn't too fussy.)
19 June 2011
20 January 2011
One month to go
So many practical small things are involved with having a baby - figuring out space and stuff is more stressful than the birth itself sometimes. I suppose my wife might not agree - especially since she's starting to get really fatigued and losing sleep because there's a small giraffe in her abdomen. He's kicking up a storm, and it's possible he may come out running or wrestling or both.
When you think about having kids, there's always a nursery and a basement or attic for storage. Living in this city, most people have maybe a second bedroom. Considering how lucky we are to have a nice-sized one bedroom apartment in a a good neighborhood with reasonable rent, I feel ridiculous for complaining. But in regards to home and all of the deep psychological attachments to that concept there are several complications which make it difficult to be at ease.
First, the metaphorical 'home in body' situation. Pretty basic, constantly digging out how the closing chasm between my real and ideal form impacts my sense of self and stability.
Second, my brother finally sold the house we grew up in - which is good for him because he could not afford to keep it and he was able to avoid foreclosure. However, since my mom died that house has been one of the few places I can go and feel her presence. Not always a good thing and often a complicator in my relationship to my brother, letting the house go will be a healing experience in the long run. Mom held on to the house longer than she wanted to because, she asserted, she wanted my brother and me to always have a home that we could call our own. It was her grand effort at providing stability in a world where she found none for herself.
Third. The apartment we live in was my wife's before she knew me, and all of the furniture is hers, the decor, and all of my belongings that would not fit in an SUV are in storage, at my brother's house, or at my father's house (a two-day drive away). She has been generous and accommodating, but now that the baby is coming, my space and stuff needs are being seriously threatened. It's not just about having a dresser to call my own, or the type of bedside table that suits my needs, but reaches into issues of autonomy and safety and security. I think over the past couple of years I have gotten more relaxed and safe and secure here, but I had been living alone for most of my adult life. That's a lot of time. My wife bought me a turntable for Christmas, so I can feel safe that she will accept a portion of my record collection in the apartment. It's not about anything that she is doing or not doing - I think it is something that might take time to figure out.
There's more, but for now that's all I have. I wish I could wave some magic wand and stop thinking about and stressing about these things - it's not helping when we need to communicate about baby preparations - but that's not an available option. I think it's reasonable as a 39 year-old who got married late to have all sorts of adult needs for space and stuff that are particular to creating safe and secure home environments. Not inflexible, but not as flexible as a 25 year-old. I really pride myself on being able to unpack these things when times are tough, but I 'm having a hard time with this particular issue. I need to take a step back and define what I need to feel safe/secure and why, and how all of it ties into the loss of my childhood home, lack of safety/security growing up, and what I can intentionally create as home in all dimensions going forward.
I get so sad when I think about it all, chest-heavy and tired. As with most all things, I know it will work out, and that I have the love and support I need to make it all happen. Might not make it easy, but certainly makes it possible.
When you think about having kids, there's always a nursery and a basement or attic for storage. Living in this city, most people have maybe a second bedroom. Considering how lucky we are to have a nice-sized one bedroom apartment in a a good neighborhood with reasonable rent, I feel ridiculous for complaining. But in regards to home and all of the deep psychological attachments to that concept there are several complications which make it difficult to be at ease.
First, the metaphorical 'home in body' situation. Pretty basic, constantly digging out how the closing chasm between my real and ideal form impacts my sense of self and stability.
Second, my brother finally sold the house we grew up in - which is good for him because he could not afford to keep it and he was able to avoid foreclosure. However, since my mom died that house has been one of the few places I can go and feel her presence. Not always a good thing and often a complicator in my relationship to my brother, letting the house go will be a healing experience in the long run. Mom held on to the house longer than she wanted to because, she asserted, she wanted my brother and me to always have a home that we could call our own. It was her grand effort at providing stability in a world where she found none for herself.
Third. The apartment we live in was my wife's before she knew me, and all of the furniture is hers, the decor, and all of my belongings that would not fit in an SUV are in storage, at my brother's house, or at my father's house (a two-day drive away). She has been generous and accommodating, but now that the baby is coming, my space and stuff needs are being seriously threatened. It's not just about having a dresser to call my own, or the type of bedside table that suits my needs, but reaches into issues of autonomy and safety and security. I think over the past couple of years I have gotten more relaxed and safe and secure here, but I had been living alone for most of my adult life. That's a lot of time. My wife bought me a turntable for Christmas, so I can feel safe that she will accept a portion of my record collection in the apartment. It's not about anything that she is doing or not doing - I think it is something that might take time to figure out.
There's more, but for now that's all I have. I wish I could wave some magic wand and stop thinking about and stressing about these things - it's not helping when we need to communicate about baby preparations - but that's not an available option. I think it's reasonable as a 39 year-old who got married late to have all sorts of adult needs for space and stuff that are particular to creating safe and secure home environments. Not inflexible, but not as flexible as a 25 year-old. I really pride myself on being able to unpack these things when times are tough, but I 'm having a hard time with this particular issue. I need to take a step back and define what I need to feel safe/secure and why, and how all of it ties into the loss of my childhood home, lack of safety/security growing up, and what I can intentionally create as home in all dimensions going forward.
I get so sad when I think about it all, chest-heavy and tired. As with most all things, I know it will work out, and that I have the love and support I need to make it all happen. Might not make it easy, but certainly makes it possible.
06 January 2011
New Year, new strategy, new perspective
So I have noticed that it is hard to catch up with writing - some schedule may help - so I'm going to plan on writing every Thursday morning. No real reason why Thursday works except for the fact that I'm writing today.
My holidays were complex but good. I saw my father on Christmas Day and he was fine, although I tried to keep my distance while still being friendly. My wife was trapped by him a bit in conversation a few times and I should probably get her a present for that since it seemed pretty annoying. He only told one "back in the day when I was really high" stories, from what she told me, and his wife was lovely as ever. I like her, and am grateful for her presence in his life. She works with developmentally disabled and autistic adults so it seems like a good match.
We are getting close to the end of the third trimester, less than two months, and there are so many things to do. I am not sure how ready anyone is, and I think I have the regular amount of excitement mixed with anxiety. I am trying to choose my intentions carefully and seek out advice from anyone who has ever had a child. We are starting to get stuff from our registry flooding into the apartment and that's a little good/bad because now things are starting to feel a little cluttered. Nowhere really to store it all. I'm starting to really worry about the cats - we won't be able to leave anything lying around because they think everything is a toy and cat hair just goes everywhere. It's difficult to imagine not having them or what we would do if we needed to find another home for them. They are really wonderful and loving creatures. When our kid is born our friends might not miss all of our "crazy cat" stories but aside from the entertainment value they are bright souls.
I am thinking about my identity as a man and a transman and a father a lot as the birth-day looms. About how it seems that thinking about what I'm missing seems to be easier to focus on than what I have, sometimes, and how that seems to be a pattern with transmen I've known. Perhaps it's just the social identity of men is so closely tied to the penis above so many other wonderful and complex traits. I think it may be a combination of that and the trans orientation of being born 'without' - without birth-given form/function, without completion in transition, without a recognizable queer identity, and most often, without a clear career/job path.
I wonder if this doesn't bleed out into the feelings I have toward my father, and maybe he is not as "without" skills or merit or virtue as I often assume. It would be wrong to say he is not deficient in several important father skills, but maybe because he is a convenient container for my other frustrations, everything is amplified. Maybe he is a jerk sometimes, but I could perhaps choose to focus on the good parts and simply acknowledge that he will never satisfy my parent needs. If I can get over the anger and let it go maybe his love that he clearly has for me will just be what it is and I don't need to judge it as much. I will never have the father I needed as a child, that time is over. He can't be the father I need now either, and he won't be the grandfather that makes my kid feel safe and secure. But he does have love, and intends to do a good job. Sometimes I think this "without" perspective that I sometimes put on keeps me from receiving all of the good stuff that might be coming my way.
I think I do a good job at accessing gratitude for what I have, but this might be different. It's part of the same story, but maybe with a richer multi-dimensional before-and-after schema. It's a good instinct, to be cautious after being hurt. Maybe there's a time that defense would serve me better more delicately deployed.
10 December 2010
Sorry it's been a while
Thanksgiving totally threw me off the blogging schedule - I had an awesome chosen-family holiday away from it all and it's hard to leap back into productivity. Oh and I was sick forever afterwards. Nothing like relaxing to open yourself to some germs.
I have a lot to say about pregnancy-related things, being a dad things, trans things.. and I'm not sure where to start. Generally I like to have a topic decided before I start writing these things so it's all smooth and flowy. My wife is going to have a baby in two months and that's crazy soon - watching him grow inside her is so intense. I wish I could feel him kick more often, but usually I put my hand there and he stops. That could be encouraging, maybe my touch soothes him? I would not mind that at all. I wish she wasn't so uncomfortable all the time doing this amazing job that I would not like to do ever.
I'm having a little bit of a hard time with coming back from Thanksgiving because I was able to hang out with some transman friends and that type of community isn't the norm for me on a day-to-day basis. I could imagine what it would be like to text one of them and say I'm coming over to hang out for an hour, and that be easy and regular and okay. Projecting more into the future, I'd like people near me so I can come over with the baby without lugging a ton of crap on mass transit - like walking to someone's house. Neighbors. The apartment we live in is super cheap and in a great part of town, just all of my friends live either in another area of the city or all over the map. I'm a little anxious that after everyone gets over the absolutely adorable newborn and we're alone in our apartment it will be hard to meet up with friends. I was warned about this happening, by people in the know. Although I was also told that I was going to be so tired for so very long that I may not care as much.
It's been hard for me to make friends my whole life, and have only been in my current location for the past three years. I had to leave some very good friends across the country, and some of the long distance love is great but it is hard to keep up. I have a handful of awesome friends that I've known now for over 15 years and we see each other every once in a while. All the good stuff is still there, but we've all just gotten older and have busy, exciting, productive lives. I wonder if most transmen have had a history of difficult friend issues or anxieties... might not be as easy with inner storms to connect outside and feel seen and safe and sure. It's taken me a very long time to be okay with trust that people genuinely like me and want to be my friend without having random anxiety attacks. But I still worry that I'm not as good a friend as I'd like to be sometimes, and know that I can drop the ball sometimes and stall communication efforts. I think my mom idealized relationships with people and had a lot of anxiety about what others thought or how they regarded her and I definitely was given that message growing up.
So now of course I have to stop writing and get to work, where I'm trying to get a promotion before the year's end and double my salary within my first year of employment there. Give a man a goal and a big incentive (like an unemployed pregnant wife) and get out of his way.
I have a lot to say about pregnancy-related things, being a dad things, trans things.. and I'm not sure where to start. Generally I like to have a topic decided before I start writing these things so it's all smooth and flowy. My wife is going to have a baby in two months and that's crazy soon - watching him grow inside her is so intense. I wish I could feel him kick more often, but usually I put my hand there and he stops. That could be encouraging, maybe my touch soothes him? I would not mind that at all. I wish she wasn't so uncomfortable all the time doing this amazing job that I would not like to do ever.
I'm having a little bit of a hard time with coming back from Thanksgiving because I was able to hang out with some transman friends and that type of community isn't the norm for me on a day-to-day basis. I could imagine what it would be like to text one of them and say I'm coming over to hang out for an hour, and that be easy and regular and okay. Projecting more into the future, I'd like people near me so I can come over with the baby without lugging a ton of crap on mass transit - like walking to someone's house. Neighbors. The apartment we live in is super cheap and in a great part of town, just all of my friends live either in another area of the city or all over the map. I'm a little anxious that after everyone gets over the absolutely adorable newborn and we're alone in our apartment it will be hard to meet up with friends. I was warned about this happening, by people in the know. Although I was also told that I was going to be so tired for so very long that I may not care as much.
It's been hard for me to make friends my whole life, and have only been in my current location for the past three years. I had to leave some very good friends across the country, and some of the long distance love is great but it is hard to keep up. I have a handful of awesome friends that I've known now for over 15 years and we see each other every once in a while. All the good stuff is still there, but we've all just gotten older and have busy, exciting, productive lives. I wonder if most transmen have had a history of difficult friend issues or anxieties... might not be as easy with inner storms to connect outside and feel seen and safe and sure. It's taken me a very long time to be okay with trust that people genuinely like me and want to be my friend without having random anxiety attacks. But I still worry that I'm not as good a friend as I'd like to be sometimes, and know that I can drop the ball sometimes and stall communication efforts. I think my mom idealized relationships with people and had a lot of anxiety about what others thought or how they regarded her and I definitely was given that message growing up.
So now of course I have to stop writing and get to work, where I'm trying to get a promotion before the year's end and double my salary within my first year of employment there. Give a man a goal and a big incentive (like an unemployed pregnant wife) and get out of his way.
24 November 2010
If the sun refused to shine...
That's the start of a Led Zeppelin song called "Thank You." Good one to have in my head these days.
Today I was told about an awesome article in the Wall Street Journal about gratitude (LINK). I generally hate the themed articles around Thanksgiving or Valentine's Day or whatever but this one is about psychology studies and makes a point that I like: gratitude is better for you year-round than you realize.
I was talking with a coworker about Harry Potter today and some other coworkers thought we were a little extreme having an intense discussion about the virtue of the Cuaron-directed "Prisoner of Azkhaban" versus the Yates films (not bothering to go there with the Columbus films)...My retort was about how great it is to get involved with a set of books that are all, essentially, about hope. And that there's no such thing as having too much of that around.
Makes me wonder - are we all born with hope? Is it something that gets drained out of us through disappointments, or if we're lucky, reinforced by having a modicum of stability? I sort of feel like I was just born hopeful but what if it was something my mom whispered in my ear once when I was four? Makes me wonder how to pass that on to my son. My mom started out hopeful and idealistic but by the time I was out of elementary school that was pretty much gone. (Reminds me I should really write a "mom" tab like I did for my father...soon.)
Certainly another thing on my list - have to be it to pass it on, right?
So here's to gratitude and hope, which to me are closely related in world-view and perspective, and for this Thanksgiving season and all seasons may we be able to feel it deeply enough to meaningfully pass it on to someone we love.
Today I was told about an awesome article in the Wall Street Journal about gratitude (LINK). I generally hate the themed articles around Thanksgiving or Valentine's Day or whatever but this one is about psychology studies and makes a point that I like: gratitude is better for you year-round than you realize.
I was talking with a coworker about Harry Potter today and some other coworkers thought we were a little extreme having an intense discussion about the virtue of the Cuaron-directed "Prisoner of Azkhaban" versus the Yates films (not bothering to go there with the Columbus films)...My retort was about how great it is to get involved with a set of books that are all, essentially, about hope. And that there's no such thing as having too much of that around.
Makes me wonder - are we all born with hope? Is it something that gets drained out of us through disappointments, or if we're lucky, reinforced by having a modicum of stability? I sort of feel like I was just born hopeful but what if it was something my mom whispered in my ear once when I was four? Makes me wonder how to pass that on to my son. My mom started out hopeful and idealistic but by the time I was out of elementary school that was pretty much gone. (Reminds me I should really write a "mom" tab like I did for my father...soon.)
Certainly another thing on my list - have to be it to pass it on, right?
So here's to gratitude and hope, which to me are closely related in world-view and perspective, and for this Thanksgiving season and all seasons may we be able to feel it deeply enough to meaningfully pass it on to someone we love.
20 November 2010
That must be a banana in your pants
I was talking with some friends the other night about the new security xray contraptions at the airports and how it would feel weird to walk through one. To have the four people standing behind the monitor, the ones with the power to impede my progress, see that I'm a guy without a penis. Will they register that, or won't notice because they don't see a weapon? Or will they peer around the corner at me, like the people in the Social Security Administration office when I went to get my gender changed on my SSN?
The thing that upset the lady at the Social Security office, and what gets some people flustered when I tell them I'm trans, is that they can't but imagine what is in my pants. And see it as some sort of personal betrayal because all this time they were thinking I had a standard-issue penis down there. Gay, straight, it doesn't matter. I have even gotten asked by a total stranger if I had bottom surgery, and if I did, does my penis work. Is that really what being a man is all reduced to? Can I be a transman without people invading my body-space?
I was used to it, as a dyke; people asking inappropriate questions. Do you miss having sex with a man? How do you have sex? You didn't have a good relationship with your last boyfriend, did you? I usually replied to the tune of "if you don't know what we do in bed then you're girlfriend is probably really dissatisfied," and "if having sex with men is so good why aren't you doing it?" Sort of juvenile, I admit, but they didn't expect those answers so it was fun. As long as they weren't dangerous idiots I didn't mind a bit of circular logic.
There's a big difference between strangers imagining what you do when you are having sex and what appendages you may or may not have on your body. It seems way more personal to me. I'm sure that the conversation turning from an abstract act in someone's mind to my physical being standing there is a big part of it. And I know I'd rather have been born with a penis and it's sort of a sore spot with me, y'know, a little bit of tender subject. So I might be reacting a bit strongly on this one. As a dyke, I didn't care as much about the sex questions because I could just sneer at them or flip them off. I looked like a big dyke, pretty much all the time for over ten years. Nothing was hidden. This is a conversation that has to happen because there's something private and unknown being shared.
I do not want to be one of those guys who goes around whining about how messed up it is that I had to be born trans. I am very proud of my journey, glad for my experiences, and eager to continue to grow into the person that is me. However, it does stink that I can't wake up one day and poof! it's there. I am interested in seeing how the surgeries evolve and hopefully one day will be able to at least get something done down there. It's a lot to learn how to love yourself in this world regardless of gender or sexuality and I'm not going to let anything I can control make it even harder for me to slog through. I have chosen to be patient and to be here in the now with who and how I am.
All of that is well and good, but I still don't want to go through those xray machines in the airport. I would prefer it to be my choice when people around me know that I'm trans and I feel vulnerable when I do not have that choice.
The thing that upset the lady at the Social Security office, and what gets some people flustered when I tell them I'm trans, is that they can't but imagine what is in my pants. And see it as some sort of personal betrayal because all this time they were thinking I had a standard-issue penis down there. Gay, straight, it doesn't matter. I have even gotten asked by a total stranger if I had bottom surgery, and if I did, does my penis work. Is that really what being a man is all reduced to? Can I be a transman without people invading my body-space?
I was used to it, as a dyke; people asking inappropriate questions. Do you miss having sex with a man? How do you have sex? You didn't have a good relationship with your last boyfriend, did you? I usually replied to the tune of "if you don't know what we do in bed then you're girlfriend is probably really dissatisfied," and "if having sex with men is so good why aren't you doing it?" Sort of juvenile, I admit, but they didn't expect those answers so it was fun. As long as they weren't dangerous idiots I didn't mind a bit of circular logic.
There's a big difference between strangers imagining what you do when you are having sex and what appendages you may or may not have on your body. It seems way more personal to me. I'm sure that the conversation turning from an abstract act in someone's mind to my physical being standing there is a big part of it. And I know I'd rather have been born with a penis and it's sort of a sore spot with me, y'know, a little bit of tender subject. So I might be reacting a bit strongly on this one. As a dyke, I didn't care as much about the sex questions because I could just sneer at them or flip them off. I looked like a big dyke, pretty much all the time for over ten years. Nothing was hidden. This is a conversation that has to happen because there's something private and unknown being shared.
I do not want to be one of those guys who goes around whining about how messed up it is that I had to be born trans. I am very proud of my journey, glad for my experiences, and eager to continue to grow into the person that is me. However, it does stink that I can't wake up one day and poof! it's there. I am interested in seeing how the surgeries evolve and hopefully one day will be able to at least get something done down there. It's a lot to learn how to love yourself in this world regardless of gender or sexuality and I'm not going to let anything I can control make it even harder for me to slog through. I have chosen to be patient and to be here in the now with who and how I am.
All of that is well and good, but I still don't want to go through those xray machines in the airport. I would prefer it to be my choice when people around me know that I'm trans and I feel vulnerable when I do not have that choice.
18 November 2010
Continued Gratitude and mixed feelings
Even on the days when I wake up groggy from disturbing dreams, carrying some hidden anxieties or fears under paper-thin skin, I walk down the street and I feel lucky. It's a visceral thing, as real as the pain, but it's warm and solid and strong. I don't have to work for it as much as I used to, and it's not ringing hollow like a pithy bit of advice that people seem to sling about out of the discomfort of not knowing what to say.
I am grateful for this love I never thought I would have, from my wife and friends. I am so very grateful for this beautiful child that will be my expensive and exhausting charge for the rest of my life. I don't have any horrible illnesses, although I have some aches and pains that come from aging (and not stretching enough). My job is intellectually satisfying, even though it will not pay the bills if my wife does not get a new job by the end of next summer. I feel cared for and regarded as special by my wife and friends but sometimes these relationships take more work and energy than I want to expend.
I think the key to the gratitude is its coexistence with the crap, which for years I tried to run away from or numb or deny. Feeling all of it right now, thankful I remember to breathe, stand up straight, walk tall, eat my vegetables, and have patience. Truthfully, sometimes I have to force that through clenched teeth, but it generally seems to be some sort of autonomic response.
If I can only manage a whole night's sleep without feeling so unrested. I suppose it's normal to feel sad or stressed with all that's going on, maybe I have a tight cap on everything in order to get through the day and make things happen. Maybe being grateful and seeing the darkness is not enough. I don't have a lot of room here for my feelings and there isn't someone to take care of me anymore since my mom died. It could be I just need a little vacation but I'm not so sure. I think that's a cop-out.
I am worried about my brother, continually mourning my mother, missing my guitar and record collection that's stored in my father's house, wanting to make art, concerned about my wife's job situation, scared that I might not get the raise/promotion I need to move up and on and help support my family, mostly hate my body, feel distant from my friends and need my temporary injuries to heal so I can exercise again. None of that is going to go away if I just have a vacation.
Maybe my gratitude is a side-effect of my realization that all of these things are just simply what is going on and just recognizing that there's only so much I can do about it all right now. Soon I'll figure out how to get my stuff from my father's house without having too much discomfort at dealing with that relationship. Maybe I can even get a record player and listen to the music. Practice on my guitar and finally learn how to play it properly (or at least double my repertoire to six songs). Do the art. Time takes care of the other things, the not under my control things. I guess. Still kind of sad this morning. Time to walk down the street and feel lucky again.
I am grateful for this love I never thought I would have, from my wife and friends. I am so very grateful for this beautiful child that will be my expensive and exhausting charge for the rest of my life. I don't have any horrible illnesses, although I have some aches and pains that come from aging (and not stretching enough). My job is intellectually satisfying, even though it will not pay the bills if my wife does not get a new job by the end of next summer. I feel cared for and regarded as special by my wife and friends but sometimes these relationships take more work and energy than I want to expend.
I think the key to the gratitude is its coexistence with the crap, which for years I tried to run away from or numb or deny. Feeling all of it right now, thankful I remember to breathe, stand up straight, walk tall, eat my vegetables, and have patience. Truthfully, sometimes I have to force that through clenched teeth, but it generally seems to be some sort of autonomic response.
If I can only manage a whole night's sleep without feeling so unrested. I suppose it's normal to feel sad or stressed with all that's going on, maybe I have a tight cap on everything in order to get through the day and make things happen. Maybe being grateful and seeing the darkness is not enough. I don't have a lot of room here for my feelings and there isn't someone to take care of me anymore since my mom died. It could be I just need a little vacation but I'm not so sure. I think that's a cop-out.
I am worried about my brother, continually mourning my mother, missing my guitar and record collection that's stored in my father's house, wanting to make art, concerned about my wife's job situation, scared that I might not get the raise/promotion I need to move up and on and help support my family, mostly hate my body, feel distant from my friends and need my temporary injuries to heal so I can exercise again. None of that is going to go away if I just have a vacation.
Maybe my gratitude is a side-effect of my realization that all of these things are just simply what is going on and just recognizing that there's only so much I can do about it all right now. Soon I'll figure out how to get my stuff from my father's house without having too much discomfort at dealing with that relationship. Maybe I can even get a record player and listen to the music. Practice on my guitar and finally learn how to play it properly (or at least double my repertoire to six songs). Do the art. Time takes care of the other things, the not under my control things. I guess. Still kind of sad this morning. Time to walk down the street and feel lucky again.
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