Transition firsts and reliefs/My story.

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I got to wondering, the other day, what were the milestones in my transition and, for that matter, what were those of some of you.

My transition really began way back in the 60's and 70's with dressing for Halloweens and the occasional party, but the REAL transition began in 1999 when, at the same time, I discovered Fictionmania and got fired from a job I really liked, that being a driver/delivery person for Meals On Wheels. I got fired because I was dumb and cocky at the same time. Yeah, I know. Sounds impossible, but there I was. Out of work, broke, and generally disgusted with myself and the world.

I applied for Social Services assistance so I could live until I found more work, but jobs were hard to find considering my lack of real skills. Life skills I had... job skills, not so much. Without digressing too much, I had just a series of jobs, usually at minimum wage after leaving the Air Force. I drifted from one job to another with no real plan for my life whatsoever. Finally I landed a position as a PCA (personal care aide) at a Senior Citizen's Day Care facility.

The problem with that was... I had no training or certification for the position and had to take a class to get the certificate, so I did. I worked there for a few years, but it wasn't my idea of a great job. Then again, I guess I wasn't their idea of a great employee either, and we parted company. Fired again.

At that point, I re-applied for Social Services assistance, but while in the office applying, I broke down and began crying. I felt like I was going to faint. The Worker there noticed my distress right away and asked me if I wanted to talk with someone. In between sobs I indicated that I did, and she set me up with a counseling appointment. In the process of the therapy, it finally came out that I felt more like a female than a male. Oh, I played the part of a guy fairly well, but that's all it really was... playing a part.

Anyway... So there I was, dealing with depression and diagnosed with severe stress reactions and, out of that, the first real realization that I was, more than likely, transsexual. My therapist referred me to a psychiatrist who specialized in treating t-folks and I began on a regimen of hormones and blockers. My shrink told me that, at my advanced age, then in my late 50s, I probably wouldn't see much in the way of physical changes, but I began anyway, knowing that if I ever wanted to qualify for surgery I'd need to. That was my first real step toward transition.

My second step came about when I went from treatment by the Social Services Department, to treatment from the Veteran's Administration. I ditched the psychiatrist due to a disagreement about what I thought I was and what SHE thought I was. Her last pronouncement to me was that she didn't think I was a transsexual, but an autogynephile. By then I knew the difference between the two and when she said she really didn't care, but if I wanted to play "gender fuck", her words, I told her to take her prognosis and shove it up her ass and stalked out of her office muttering imprecations against her and the whole damned system.

I registered with the V.A. and was immediately assigned a counselor who understood what I was going through and she continued my hormone/blocker regimen along with taking me deeper into the psychological side of transitioning.

I went through about three therapists with the V.A. system, since they were were constantly changing, and finally landed with one who not only understood, but who was skilled at dealing with and treating transsexuals. Through her I finally got my "carry letter" and an appointment with an Endocrinologist who not only continued my HRT, but who also signed off on my gender paperwork, enabling me to begin the process of changing my name and even, eventually, the gender marker on my drivers license.

My third step began after three or four years of therapy and, through all the minutiae involved with the V.A. I also began dressing full time on a weekend when my Mother was in hospital dying, two days after I had my cat put down, did a book signing for my book, Headlights Girl, did an hour interview live, on the air with a local radio station, and did a local Television spot promoting the book signing. All on Labor day weekend. Mom died, the signing went okay, I had begun anew job a few months earlier, and I had told them that I was transitioning and explained that at some point, I would begin dressing as a female. Amazingly, they not only hired me, but signed off on my dressing female. I wrote a letter to all my fellow employees about what I was going through and telling them that I was going to begin dressing properly following the Labor Day weekend. Since I was working for the county in which I live, the County Attorney was informed of my situation and, having read my letter plus the fact that I was preceded in my transition by another M-F, I received the go-ahead and began living full time as Catherine.

My fourth step involved something somewhat prosaic, but truly momentous to me, which involved my not having to hide who and what I was any longer. Always before, I would dress privately and stash everything away when my "femme" time ended, hiding it. Now I could leave all my things out in the open, makeup, clothes, shoes, etc. I didn't have to HIDE any more! My housemate, my best friend, accepted me as Catherine and even accompanied me to my book signing, so she was very important in the ease of my transitioning. My change, at work, went almost flawlessly and was without any real incident of any kind. I worked for the County as an escort. Not THAT kind! I rode the busses of our local mass transit system, assisting elderly and/or disabled people in getting to and from their medical appointments, but dealing with 300-400 or more pound people in non-powered wheelchairs began to be a real strain and, after a few years, I began to lose strength and stamina. Afraid I'd losr control of a heavyweight in a wheelchair and injure them, I regretfully resigned my position.

At that time, I was diagnosed as having COPD which was the prime reason for my loss of stamina and causing me to get short of breath very rapidly and requiring more and more time to recover after any real exertion. Eventually, the V.A. designated me as being completely and permanently disabled and I took my Social Security benefits at the age of 62. I had received an inheritance from my Mother which helped in my transition and I threw myself into the full time thing. I took a trip to Atlanta, accompanied by a dear friend from the internet, and met several of the writers from Top Shelf. I spent an incredible week surrounded by over a thousand trans folks of all descriptions and interacted with many of them. Possibly the most enlightening and informative life of my life.

I had, by that time been writing TG fiction and had the book out, receiving limited success with it... but then again, I hadn't written the original story to make money, so that wasn't a big deal. I continued writing online and posting my work at Top Shelf, Fictionmania and a couple other sites. I made countless friends over the internet and also got a small pension from the military for my health situation and low income, which brings us to the present time.

My transition was almost entirely bereft of speed bumps or bad situations and I know that I was and am one of the lucky ones. I seemed to flow almost effortlessly from my male personna to my female one and am virtually completely accepted in the small city I live in as Catherine. Okay, I lost a friend or two, and some of my family still doesn't want me to come around where they live although we do talk amicably on the phone. I still live with my housemate and her Daughter, my Goddaughter, and we go everywhere together. Life isn't easy, considering my low monthly income, but it could be a hell of a lot worse, and I am grateful to everyone who aided in my transition. Without them, it wouldn't have even been possible.

If you've managed to get this far into my "novel," I thank you for reading it. It's made me wonder though. What's YOUR story? Maybe we could have Erin and the wonderful admins put up a special category up to put our life stories into.

So, that's my story. What's yours?

Huggles and love,
Catherine Linda Michel

Comments

Thank you

littlerocksilver's picture

... for telling us about your journey. It's nice to know a bit moer about the person behind the name.

Portia

Still being edited...

Andrea Lena's picture

...my life was sent off to the publishers and has been returned to me more than several times for re-writes. I'm glad I've got some folks who actually know what they're doing, and I'm very glad to know more of who you are and how and why you got to where you are today. Thank you!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Catherine, I wonder

how many will tell their story,

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine