Well it finally happened. No I didn’t win the Lottery or find the answer to where Waldo is. Nor did I invent a mascara that goes on with one stroke to create lashes instantly curled and thick as a kitten’s tail. Nope none of those.

But I did get invited to a wedding.

Ah weddings have to love them. Have you ever been to one?

The setting, the flowers, the dresses, the handsome groom, the pretty bride…the STRESS.

So my gal pal calls me and says, “hey, Becki, come to my wedding in Pennsylvania” and I said, “yeah sure, what species should I come as”.

She laughed; she knew what I meant.

“Well come as you”, she said, “I love you as you are, so come as you”.

And so that started the chain of events that led to my entering a fundamentalist church for the first time as me, hanging out with some cool people as me and getting my first drink bought for me. It was like spreading my wings and stepping from the nest and finding my wings worked.

who would know?

But first…the dress.

Scene I: The Dress
Once I was given the “all clear” to go to the wedding I became obsessed with what to wear. I mean, you don’t go to a wedding every day so you gotta wear something nice right? So I said, “heck with the budget, I’m going in style”. So I went to Chico’s, Lane Bryant (yeah I’m a thick chick), Dress Barn, Sears, Macy’s, Kohl’s, Models Resale, and found exactly…zippo. So I was pretty much in a panic. I started not my usual one hour ahead of time with that “deer in the headlights” look on my face showing up at Model’s Resale hoping my savior, Kimberly, would snap her fingers and make me gorgeous. Nope, I started 10 days ahead of time. That’s pretty good for me.

But the clock was ticking and I had……nuthin’.

So in desperation I called the bride to be (lucky girl!!)

“Can I wear black to your wedding” I asked, hope in my voice that a “yes” would give me some options I’d yet to consider at that point.

She paused and then said, “Black? Well I really would prefer if no one wore black to my wedding”.

My face dropped and panic instantly set in.

Not knowing what to do, I went in desperation to Walmart.

WALMART? They have fashion there? I had no idea. I was in a daze and sort of just wandered in there. But I was shocked to see they did indeed have something(s) for a woman like me. So I got the cutest black peasant skirt, a gold flecked maroon tunic and marched out. However, a good deal on some threads no more makes an outfit than a sow’s ear makes a purse.

Unless of course you accessorize…

ahhhh accessories…what would a girls life be without ‘em.

So in to see my friend Kimberly again. I showed her what I had.

She gave me her “thoughtful” look, hand on chin, mouth twitching. Then she said, looking at my threads hard trying to envision some visage of acceptability I might be able to attain.

“Well, everyone wears black at an afternoon wedding, I always do, you’ll be fine”. Then she pulled out a silk black shawl and gold earrings that were half moon shaped with small zirconia stones in them. My jaw dropped when I saw them. “Here, take these”, she said, “this will dress it up”.

Kimberly is the closest thing I have to a fairy God-Mother. I swear she has a wand in her handbag.

With the addition of a serpentine gold necklace she was right. I had an outfit that would blend into the wedding. For girls like me, blend is good. But I got way more than blended. Keep reading.

Scene II: Becki forgets how to drive
My friends who’ve braved a vehicle with me know that I am, at best, an average driver, and at worst a clear menace. My swerving to stay on a course of direction printed from Mapquest or Yahoo Maps is nothing short of a scene from some clown car derby.

So finishing work on a Friday I got my rump on the road and went to complete my shopping. First it was off to MAC for some refills, “oh your girlfriend will love these” the MAC person said to me as she handed me the items I’d chosen. I smiled my best Becki smile in boy mode, “Hey thanks, but these are for me I’m gonna love ‘em”. She looked at me, smiled, blinked twice and had a silly cartoon grin on her face like the one the coyote gets when the roadrunner drops an anvil on him, took my credit card and then wished me a good night.

So off I went 3 hours late but hey it’s only 6 hours to Pennsylvania and since I”m a night owl I figures that leaving at 10PM I’ll miss all the traffic AND I’ll get there by say 4AM, hit the hay get up at 10AM with two hours to get ready….

That was all well and good until four hours later, I looked up and realized I was in some part of NJ that was not on my map. I knew I was still in NJ due to the New Jersey State Police cars that seemed to be in abundance in this part of the state. But where? The fact my map was about 10 years old had nothing to do with it I’m sure.

So, not seeing anyone or anything in site, I made a u-turn and headed back to where I thought my last exit was supposed to be. I was, by some divine intervention, right.

So the girl pulls into in to her hotel at 10AM. 12 hours on the road. Hey I can do this on one hours sleep!

Scene III: The Wedding, The Drink, and The Girl who Learned to Fly
The wedding was beautiful. The bride was so beautiful I cried. The groom was so handsome I melted for my friend and thought, he’s such a catch, she’s so lucky. They look so beautiful together. My friend’s son was about as cute as can be. I would have taken him home in my pocketbook if I could have.

At the church a woman, sitting next to me, was choking up her lung. I mean she was HACKING. People were starring. So I got up to find some water for her. Figuring the kitchen was a good spot I sort of tiptoed in there.

A churchwoman halted me. “Why are you in here” she said to me suspiciously. “Well I need some water”, I said, confidently and hoping I didn’t get booted from the church, “a cup really, a woman sitting next to me is choking”.

“Oh, well just go the ladies room, we have some in there with cups”. She smiled at me. I smiled back. I felt normal. The woman got her water and was about as surprised someone had actually gotten her a glass of water as I had in being able to easily obtain one for her.

From there we headed over the reception with great mirth! Food was eaten, friends were made, smiles were smiled and pictures were taken. It was nice.

Then it happened.

I was at the bar and a man turned to me, smiled and said that I should try a Southern Comfort and Coke. He smiled again, then lingered looking into my eyes and said I’d really enjoy it. So I gave him my best Becki smile and said, “sure, that sounds like a great idea”. So he ordered one for me. Then he turned, taking his two cups to the table. One for him and one for his wife. The bartender smiled at me and poured me about the strongest and tastiest drink I’d ever had. Do bartenders do this for all the girls? The best part, the man who first saw me at the bar was looking over at me and smiled across the room at me as I showed him I had the drink and sipped it. Then he toasted me.

Then the girl learned to fly…

The blonde haired woman at my table said “Hey come catch the bouquet with me”. I said no, wiggled my wedding ring at her and mouthed to her, “I’m married”. And she smiled back at me, gave me a puzzled look and skipped off. I smiled too. I’d just learned to fly as me. It’s hard to put those feelings into words. Maybe it will never happen again – maybe I’ll go into the closet and cherish the day as one of those life highlights. But then again maybe I won’t. Maybe one day I’ll get to fly again.

This morning was just one of those mornings where I was frustrated to absolute tears.  I’ve still not gotten to the electrologist, I waffled between still thinking I’m half mad for even thinking that I’m transgendered, then re-thinking  where I’ve been over the past two months and remembering that the deepest clinical depression I’ve ever faced was the result of purging (more on that in a later post), and then my clothes not fitting (the result of my personal self-destruction over the past year unnecessarily agonizing over my GID).

Then I put this song on, and sang, and life, was better…

Say to those who are fearful hearted,
Do not be afraid
The Lord your God is Strong
And with His mighty arms
When you call out His Name
He will come and save

He will come and save you
He will come and save you
Say to the weary one
Your God will surely come
He will come and save you

He will come and save you
He will come and save you
Lift up your eyes to Him
You will arise again
He will come and save you

Say to those who are broken hearted
Do not lose your faith
The Lord your God is strong
With His loving arms
When you call on His name
He will come and save

(repeat chorus)

He is our refuge in the day of trouble
He is our shelter in the time of storm
He is our tower in the day of sorrow
Our fortress in the time of war

(repeat chorus 2x)

Lift up your eyes to Him
You will arise again
He will come and save you
Lift up y our eyes to Him
You will arise again
He will come and save you

(He Will Come & Save You, Bob Fitts & Gary Sadler, 1995, Integrity Hosanna! Music/ASCAP)

Sometimes I’m a liar

Sometimes I’m a fake

Sometimes I’m a hypocrite that everybody hates

Sometimes I’m a poet

Sometimes I’m a preacher

Sometimes I watch life go by sitting on the bleacher

But, I’ve never been left alone in any problem that I’ve known even though I’m to blame, there were times when things were dark and I’ve been known to miss the mark but someone fixed my aim

Sometimes I’m a man of God, sometimes I’m all right, sometimes i lay down close my eyes and pray to God

Sometimes I don’t feel good, it’s hard to start the day, it’s hard to climb the obstacles that sometimes come my way; if I make it, I’m a good man, am I bad man if I fail? i know I’m never good enough, so I let grace prevail

Oh I’ve never been left alone in any problem that I’ve known even though I’m to blame there were times when things were dark and I’ve been known to miss the mark but someone fixed my aim

Sometimes I’m a man of God, sometimes I’m all right, sometimes I lay down, close my eyes and pray to God I’m ready for the night.

(Audio Adreneline, 1996)

I’ve just come out of a two day depression. A dip. I hate these. Usually I just hide for two or three days. Since hiding under the covers in bed isn’t an option, I just hide on the Internet instead. In my bizarre sense of economy, I figure it beats being an alcoholic or a drug addict as my father was – and who subsequently died as a result of complications from those addictions.

I’m so messed up right now I can barely think straight, let alone string together words cogently enough to make sense. I have no idea
why these “dips” happen. The best I can make of them, they happen when I don’t take care of myself, burying my being transgendered deep inside me to the degree that it drives me to a depression that I can’t really deal with. I know there are medications for this soft of thing. And my therapist has recommended them on more than one occasion. So why not avail myself of them and get back to some normalcy? Mainly, I think, because I don’t like the side effects, the increased tendency for suicide, the unknowns of taking them for so long. So I chose to ride out these periods and then I come to my senses after two days of not sleeping, of hiding, and realize I’m really in a bad sorts, pull myself together and drag myself up and out and see that the sun really is shining, the air really is filled with oxygen and that maybe things aren’t so bad after all.

Expressing my transgendered nature really does help me in these situations. Generally, it’s about crossdressing. In doing that, I am able to bring some level of congruity between my body and my mind and that makes all the difference, calming me, making my little world line up and then letting me sort of just go on with life. That going on with life is what most if not all folk who are transgendered really want. They just want some measure of peace and then to live and work and love. It’s pretty simple stuff really. I don’t know a single transgendered man or woman who would ask to have Gender Identity Dysphoria (GID). The general complications that it causes are just mind boggling. MOST of those complications are the result of societal pressure that being transgendered is somehow so weird that it demands stomping out or to be relegated to some sensational talk show. Many of those complications are caused by the transgendered persons own fears as well.

So it’s nice to be out and about. I don’t feel particularly comfortable in my own skin right now, but I’m not in some darkcavernous place at least.