Change, Expectation, and Reality
The other day I accidentally admitted, in the presence of both our minister and our RE committee chair, that persistent nagging is a technique that has sometimes worked if you want something from me. Oops! Of course they both immediately made “Hmmmm!” noises and pronounced this a VERY INTERESTING revelation... which presumably they intend to make good use of at some future time.
I laughingly protested that they shouldn’t assume it’ll continue to work... after all, I’m a rapidly changing personality right now!
Our minister just grinned and reminded me that he has been through this before (a close friend of his having transitioned some years back) and knows better...
He’s right, of course. Transition changes many things, but not the basic essence of who you are. No matter how much I change, the person who comes out the other end will still be ME, with all of my strengths and weaknesses, gifts and faults and personality quirks. He’ll be long-winded, extroverted, and introspective, just like “she” was. He’ll be a terrible ham who is comfortable on stage but sometimes awkward in real life... just like his predecessor. He’ll have the same predisposition toward procrastination (and, luckily, a corresponding ability to work well under time pressure)... and, yes, a tendency to sometimes give in (eventually) when nagged. (Poor guy!) And so forth, for all of my good and bad qualities.
I can work to change these things, of course, just like anyone else can - at least, the ones I consider negative. But they won’t change automatically with my transition.
Oh, a few things might shift suddenly, surprisingly, gifts of the process itself - the fruit of mysterious machinations in the psyche occurring “under the radar” of my conscious world. I’ve examined a couple of these surprises in previous posts (look for “images” and “mysteries” in the post titles). I have been both astounded by them, and grateful for them, and I see them as confirmations of my choice to follow my truth. But those kinds of changes are unpredictable, unexpected. They don’t follow any pattern of conscious wishing or wanting, and if I had set out specifically to work on those things and try to make them change, I suspect it wouldn’t have worked. They just happened to be entangled in whatever my subconscious mind was processing at the time, when the ground shifted and somehow cracked them open.
There are those, however, who seem to choose transition because they think - or perhaps just hope - that it will be a “fix” for the broken parts of their lives not directly connected to their gender... that in changing the sex markers of their bodies to better fit the internal self, that self will somehow also miraculously become more patient, better organized, more socially adept, more proactive, less anxious about life’s vagaries and challenges... better in every way. And if that doesn’t happen, there can be bitter disappointment - and often, second thoughts about transitioning.
Now, according to statistical research, as well as most of the personal stories I’ve heard and read, the majority of those who choose to make a gender transition are satisfied with the choice - happier, calmer, feeling more right in themselves and with the world.
But there are some few who make a partial or even a complete transition, and then decide that it was a mistake, and that they need to change back. This is officially called “de-transitioning” - but that word is pretty misleading. Depending on how far along in the process that person was, and what specific choices they made, it might not be easy - or even really possible - to undo what’s been done. Some of the changes that come with hormone therapy and/or surgery are very difficult to reverse; others are simply irreversible. The result is an individual with a body that’s basically stuck between two genders, never feeling fully right in either.
I’ve read some of their stories. They’re often avidly circulated by religious organizations that are anti-LGBT in general and anti-Trans in particular. These heart-wrenching tales (and they really are extremely sad and troubling) are presented to demonstrate how terribly wrong it is to do such awful and unnatural things to the body God gave you, and what price you’ll likely pay for it.
But it always seems to me that these writers are missing the real point: the question of why. Not so much why the person felt that they needed to de-transition... but more the matter of why they decided to transition in the first place.
Because if there’s an overarching theme to these narratives - at least the ones I’ve read - it seems to be the belief that transition will some how fix EVERYTHING. That it’s a sort of magic pill to ease all woes, heal all wounds, erase all problems, revise all personality defects, improve all character traits... in short, a way to become someone else. An altogether stronger personality... more effective, more “in control,” more outgoing, more comfortable in all situations, more “together”... a more idealized model of humanity, so to speak.
I know what it feels like to want this. And I know what it feels like to expect it - to believe (or at least to try very hard to make oneself believe!) that if you can just turn the next corner, or climb the next hill, or whatever, the magic will happen and suddenly all will be well. And I really mean ALL will be well - your confidence will return, your acne will clear up, the sun will shine outside your window every morning, AND you’ll win the lottery even though you never bought a ticket!
This is a pattern of thinking that I learned from my mom, who seemed to spend most of her energy searching earnestly for that one thing that would fix everything else - the right kind of chair, or a different doctor, or a better isp. When she discovered that having achieved this goal didn’t bring the total healing expected, she would fall into depression... until the next new “solution” presented itself. When I was growing up she concealed these ups and downs fairly well, but in later years the cycle became very starkly visible against the much-reduced background of her life.
As wretchedly hard as it was to watch her go through this time and again (and to keep trying, fruitlessly, to get her to see it for what it was), I’m grateful to have had such a clear view of it in the end, so that I could begin to see it more clearly in my own life. And, thank the gods, I seem to have done a fair job - not perfect, but fair - of disentangling it from my own thinking before those rumblings started behind the closet door.
And so when I recognized that the question of making a physical gender transition might actually be on my plate at some point in the future, I didn’t try to decide whether it would “fix” things. (What things? All kinds of things!) I didn’t aim to figure out in advance how (or if) my life would be different or better if I chose to make that change. Instead, I let the question sit and simmer, waiting to see how (or if) it would churn up the really deep feelings - the ones that pay no attention to our conscious plans and goals, our social and cultural pressures, or our personal insecurities, but just keep on telling us, sometimes softly and sometimes deafeningly, about those needs and desires that lie closest to the core of the self.
In other words, I asked, Is this my truth? And then I listened... and kept listening. And kept listening. And kept listening...
It helped that I have a fair amount of experience with the processes of spiritual alchemy - of taking those invisible soul-substances that are stirred up by some potent life experience, and continuing to sit with them, watching and sifting and distilling and refining, observing and nurturing ongoing processes of change. I have attended amazing fire-circle events (and I have also helped to create a few of them) that are specifically geared toward stirring up that kind of deep soul-stuff... and I know that the biggest mistake you can make is to assume that when you leave the circle, the process is finished. In reality, it has just begun.
Huge breakthroughs can occur in that kind of sacred space, but the real work comes afterward. Leaving the circle, you may feel completely changed, inside and out - cleansed, transformed, wiser, stronger, a better you than you’ve ever been before. Beware; this is mostly an illusion, the spiritual “high” that you’re still riding on the downside of the experience.
Don’t get me wrong, now - I did say “mostly” illusion... because yes, there is also a deep and powerful reality underlying that illusion. What you have been given, or have found (or perhaps made) for yourself, is a door to open, a new path to walk which can lead to profound and genuine change... IF you follow it with perseverance and trust work. Yes, work, often very hard work, and a very long process. After all, this is deep life-stuff we’re talking about!
Of course, you can treat it as a rush job, fix a few dents, make the surface look pretty, and call it finished. The temptation is great. But the result is not satisfying. It won’t carry you through the hard times to come.
And so I’ve learned that, after the big fire, you have to patiently sit by many small fires. That great violent crucible that boiled your spiritual stuff to a froth will now be followed by hours, days, even years of careful attention to the little Bunsen burner in your inner laboratory, adjusting the flame just so as soul-stuff gently bubbles and rises through the tubes, watching for changes in color, scent, viscosity. Alchemy is hard work for patient men (and women, and everyone in between).
With this in mind, I approach the alchemy of gender transition with what I think is the right attitude. With the understanding that this is about the work of living my truth, of becoming more and more myself. Not a better person, nor a worse one... just more ME.
I’m pretty confident that this approach will keep me relatively sane (i.e., at least as sane as I was before - NO comments from the peanut gallery here, please!) and that I won’t be one of those folks who end up having second thoughts about transitioning.
And yes, I can hope that when I’m in a place of deeper wholeness, it’ll be easier to change some of my more negative traits. Or at least that I can rein them in more effectively. I’ve already experienced the latter, in a few particular situations. But it still takes plenty of work. And time. And commitment.
So hey... just don’t nag me about it, okay? :)
I laughingly protested that they shouldn’t assume it’ll continue to work... after all, I’m a rapidly changing personality right now!
Our minister just grinned and reminded me that he has been through this before (a close friend of his having transitioned some years back) and knows better...
He’s right, of course. Transition changes many things, but not the basic essence of who you are. No matter how much I change, the person who comes out the other end will still be ME, with all of my strengths and weaknesses, gifts and faults and personality quirks. He’ll be long-winded, extroverted, and introspective, just like “she” was. He’ll be a terrible ham who is comfortable on stage but sometimes awkward in real life... just like his predecessor. He’ll have the same predisposition toward procrastination (and, luckily, a corresponding ability to work well under time pressure)... and, yes, a tendency to sometimes give in (eventually) when nagged. (Poor guy!) And so forth, for all of my good and bad qualities.
I can work to change these things, of course, just like anyone else can - at least, the ones I consider negative. But they won’t change automatically with my transition.
Oh, a few things might shift suddenly, surprisingly, gifts of the process itself - the fruit of mysterious machinations in the psyche occurring “under the radar” of my conscious world. I’ve examined a couple of these surprises in previous posts (look for “images” and “mysteries” in the post titles). I have been both astounded by them, and grateful for them, and I see them as confirmations of my choice to follow my truth. But those kinds of changes are unpredictable, unexpected. They don’t follow any pattern of conscious wishing or wanting, and if I had set out specifically to work on those things and try to make them change, I suspect it wouldn’t have worked. They just happened to be entangled in whatever my subconscious mind was processing at the time, when the ground shifted and somehow cracked them open.
There are those, however, who seem to choose transition because they think - or perhaps just hope - that it will be a “fix” for the broken parts of their lives not directly connected to their gender... that in changing the sex markers of their bodies to better fit the internal self, that self will somehow also miraculously become more patient, better organized, more socially adept, more proactive, less anxious about life’s vagaries and challenges... better in every way. And if that doesn’t happen, there can be bitter disappointment - and often, second thoughts about transitioning.
Now, according to statistical research, as well as most of the personal stories I’ve heard and read, the majority of those who choose to make a gender transition are satisfied with the choice - happier, calmer, feeling more right in themselves and with the world.
But there are some few who make a partial or even a complete transition, and then decide that it was a mistake, and that they need to change back. This is officially called “de-transitioning” - but that word is pretty misleading. Depending on how far along in the process that person was, and what specific choices they made, it might not be easy - or even really possible - to undo what’s been done. Some of the changes that come with hormone therapy and/or surgery are very difficult to reverse; others are simply irreversible. The result is an individual with a body that’s basically stuck between two genders, never feeling fully right in either.
I’ve read some of their stories. They’re often avidly circulated by religious organizations that are anti-LGBT in general and anti-Trans in particular. These heart-wrenching tales (and they really are extremely sad and troubling) are presented to demonstrate how terribly wrong it is to do such awful and unnatural things to the body God gave you, and what price you’ll likely pay for it.
But it always seems to me that these writers are missing the real point: the question of why. Not so much why the person felt that they needed to de-transition... but more the matter of why they decided to transition in the first place.
Because if there’s an overarching theme to these narratives - at least the ones I’ve read - it seems to be the belief that transition will some how fix EVERYTHING. That it’s a sort of magic pill to ease all woes, heal all wounds, erase all problems, revise all personality defects, improve all character traits... in short, a way to become someone else. An altogether stronger personality... more effective, more “in control,” more outgoing, more comfortable in all situations, more “together”... a more idealized model of humanity, so to speak.
I know what it feels like to want this. And I know what it feels like to expect it - to believe (or at least to try very hard to make oneself believe!) that if you can just turn the next corner, or climb the next hill, or whatever, the magic will happen and suddenly all will be well. And I really mean ALL will be well - your confidence will return, your acne will clear up, the sun will shine outside your window every morning, AND you’ll win the lottery even though you never bought a ticket!
This is a pattern of thinking that I learned from my mom, who seemed to spend most of her energy searching earnestly for that one thing that would fix everything else - the right kind of chair, or a different doctor, or a better isp. When she discovered that having achieved this goal didn’t bring the total healing expected, she would fall into depression... until the next new “solution” presented itself. When I was growing up she concealed these ups and downs fairly well, but in later years the cycle became very starkly visible against the much-reduced background of her life.
As wretchedly hard as it was to watch her go through this time and again (and to keep trying, fruitlessly, to get her to see it for what it was), I’m grateful to have had such a clear view of it in the end, so that I could begin to see it more clearly in my own life. And, thank the gods, I seem to have done a fair job - not perfect, but fair - of disentangling it from my own thinking before those rumblings started behind the closet door.
And so when I recognized that the question of making a physical gender transition might actually be on my plate at some point in the future, I didn’t try to decide whether it would “fix” things. (What things? All kinds of things!) I didn’t aim to figure out in advance how (or if) my life would be different or better if I chose to make that change. Instead, I let the question sit and simmer, waiting to see how (or if) it would churn up the really deep feelings - the ones that pay no attention to our conscious plans and goals, our social and cultural pressures, or our personal insecurities, but just keep on telling us, sometimes softly and sometimes deafeningly, about those needs and desires that lie closest to the core of the self.
In other words, I asked, Is this my truth? And then I listened... and kept listening. And kept listening. And kept listening...
It helped that I have a fair amount of experience with the processes of spiritual alchemy - of taking those invisible soul-substances that are stirred up by some potent life experience, and continuing to sit with them, watching and sifting and distilling and refining, observing and nurturing ongoing processes of change. I have attended amazing fire-circle events (and I have also helped to create a few of them) that are specifically geared toward stirring up that kind of deep soul-stuff... and I know that the biggest mistake you can make is to assume that when you leave the circle, the process is finished. In reality, it has just begun.
Huge breakthroughs can occur in that kind of sacred space, but the real work comes afterward. Leaving the circle, you may feel completely changed, inside and out - cleansed, transformed, wiser, stronger, a better you than you’ve ever been before. Beware; this is mostly an illusion, the spiritual “high” that you’re still riding on the downside of the experience.
Don’t get me wrong, now - I did say “mostly” illusion... because yes, there is also a deep and powerful reality underlying that illusion. What you have been given, or have found (or perhaps made) for yourself, is a door to open, a new path to walk which can lead to profound and genuine change... IF you follow it with perseverance and trust work. Yes, work, often very hard work, and a very long process. After all, this is deep life-stuff we’re talking about!
Of course, you can treat it as a rush job, fix a few dents, make the surface look pretty, and call it finished. The temptation is great. But the result is not satisfying. It won’t carry you through the hard times to come.
And so I’ve learned that, after the big fire, you have to patiently sit by many small fires. That great violent crucible that boiled your spiritual stuff to a froth will now be followed by hours, days, even years of careful attention to the little Bunsen burner in your inner laboratory, adjusting the flame just so as soul-stuff gently bubbles and rises through the tubes, watching for changes in color, scent, viscosity. Alchemy is hard work for patient men (and women, and everyone in between).
With this in mind, I approach the alchemy of gender transition with what I think is the right attitude. With the understanding that this is about the work of living my truth, of becoming more and more myself. Not a better person, nor a worse one... just more ME.
I’m pretty confident that this approach will keep me relatively sane (i.e., at least as sane as I was before - NO comments from the peanut gallery here, please!) and that I won’t be one of those folks who end up having second thoughts about transitioning.
And yes, I can hope that when I’m in a place of deeper wholeness, it’ll be easier to change some of my more negative traits. Or at least that I can rein them in more effectively. I’ve already experienced the latter, in a few particular situations. But it still takes plenty of work. And time. And commitment.
So hey... just don’t nag me about it, okay? :)
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