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My goal here is to express myself and perhaps prompt a bit of food for thought; an opportunity for discovery for some, affirmation for some, and a sprinkle
of social awakening for others......not to demean or discredit anyone but rather indulge awareness and cultivate peoples scholarship and growth with regard to
Profound Gender Dysphoria / Transsexual as well as all gender variant individuals. To be clear, you may read this same entry again. If this topic
offends you, then you may leave now using click........................................."CLICK"

No matter what theory is applied as cause for Profound Gender Dysphoria / Transsexual (also referred to as, HBS or Harry Benjamin Syndrome) no one chooses it as a part of their life. But as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, you or an associate will come to know someone you love or befriended is right now dealing with this disorder. Gender dysphoria does not discriminate so under- stand anyone you know be they child, adult, relative, friend or acquaintance could be suffering and needs your support. The pre- valence of this disorder is rising as individuals decide to brave the stigma imposed up on them (by our free society) to become and be who we are. I am writing this partial synopsis of my life trials in hopes of providing insight for society and in particular for those touched in any way by gender dysphoria. Clearly discrimination, prejudice, hate crimes and social isolation directed toward someone is not appropriate or humane any where for any reason at any time but is alive and well in the free world. However, despite adversity and ambivalence, at days end the conclusion should hopefully be, people of Profound Gender Dysphoria or born Transsexual do not have to suffer as I and many others have. One day, freedom and human rights will cease to be just for the selected.

Because what you are about to read is not flattering with regard to my family,
I feel it necessary to preface what I share before going any further. I do not condone or excuse my parent's abusive behavior. They were wrong and I suffered. My mother made sure I suffered until the day she died and even in death she had the last word. I could have rationalized away everything they did. But when it came to my gender dysphoria and required treatment, I chose to explore and comprehend how my immediate family might have felt; why they disowned me; how a parent could turn their back on their child. It has taken years and a great deal of emotional investing to get to where I am with all this. Their concept of family was different than mine and definitely did not include me. Some people are just not equipped to deal with the dynamics of gender dysphoria. I was too different or diverse for the generations preceding mine.
As a male I was never real. However, I have always been courageously and authentically true to myself and my true gender.

Because writing is not my forte, I tend to be rather verbose.
Hopefully you will forgive and read on. Lets begin.

The worst feeling in life is not knowing your place in the world;
believing you are a mistake.

I grew up presenting as a small framed very feminine male until about 8 years of age. One might think what occurred next gave cause for my gender dysphoria. This is not so. I knew I had a gender problem even though at the time I did not know how to name it. I also recall when in kindergarten thinking "I'm not like the others. Why don't they like me; make fun of me; won't play with me"? The terror of looking feeling and acting different stayed with me throughout my school age years in part due to feeling different and mostly because of the way I was terrorized by peers. Most kids would have been out playing with peers. I spent my free time at home down in the basement playing alone and being the young girl I was. In fact for more than a few years I spent a good deal of time in that basement playing. The basement was the only place I could freely express myself without parental criticism and disdain. In any case, first grade brought my initial sexual abuse perpetrated by a male cousin. Like most victims I carried the shame. My parents, aunt and uncle treated me in a blaming fashion so I felt guilt, shame and fear. They watched me and tried to keep us kids apart so I would not taint the family. After all, I was the feminine one or the sissy so it had to be my fault. Little did either of our parents know he was out there abusing others both males and females, so he told me. No one ever correlated my decline in school attendance, isolation and prominent weight gain as related to the sexual abuse and abuse at home. The cousin took advantage of my fears knowing no one would blame him. Decades later I came to understand gender identity as female played a huge role in my outlook and perception of the situation. The sexual abuse by my cousin continued for many years. Feminine and fat, I was subjected to discrimination, terrorism, physical and emotional abuse throughout my school age years (even after my large weight loss at age 16); I was threatened ridiculed / demeaned with name calling and labels by youth and adult alike; reduced to emotional and physical abuse by both my parents, neighbors, school peers’ and educators. There were a few friendships created but nothing long lasting, My mother beat me with a leather riding crop, called me tubby and would poke my stomach and call me fatty-r-buckle in public and in front of family; dad was mostly verbally and emotionally abusive. In addition, they both embarrassed and ridiculed me when other family or family friends were around. There was no safe place for me. What few friends I had in high school refused to come to my parents home due to their behavior. My parents saw me as "queer" and I thought well if I am then so be it; I thought I am who I am. While I did not know how to label or name what I felt, I clearly knew it was not a sexual orientation issue. What ailed me was different. I had seen things on television and in the news as the world was coming to terms with Christine Jorgenson and others like her. I so identified with them. At age 17 the parents in their infinite wisdom and control sent me to a shrink. The shrink in turn told the parents I just thought I was gay and he could change me. So mums and dads were pissed when I refuted this information and refused to see this uneducated money hungry psycho-psychiatrist. The same psychiatrist told a lesbian friend of mine and her parents he could cure her...He couldn't and didn't. Interestingly, he did not even recognize the person before him (me) suffered with gender dysphoria But he had the cure ? ?

At age 18 I moved away from the parents, was hired in at a hospital full time and met the most amazing people at the boarding house where I lived (still trying to locate them). Since my parents would not allow me to school in cosmetology when living in their home, I started classes to become a hair designer, graduated and became licensed.

Gender Dysphoria research also began. I learned of clinics specializing in gender identity disorders which offered diagnostics and a small degree of guidance. A loving and caring co-worker loaned me money fully knowing it was to pursue assistance from a Johns Hopkins Hospital clinic in Baltimore, Maryland.

The entrance to the hospital has changed from what it was many years ago.
When I arrived and walked for the first time through the doors of the then entrance to Johns Hopkins Hospital, there before me was this amazing huge statue of Christ. The statue stood over ten feet tall on its own without its pedestal. I felt embraced and stood gazing up in awe of its spiritual impact.
After a few minutes I walked over to the information desk and provided the receptionist with my appointment information. Some time went by (seemed like an hour) when a very kind middle-aged woman came walking toward me. She introduced herself and we then began the long journey through the winding halls of the hospital to where I met my doctor.

Following extensive physical and psychological testing, at age 19 I was diagnosed by insightful professionals at Johns Hopkins Hospital as having profound Gender Dysphoria or Transsexual (not Homosexual). The professionals did not have to tell me what was wrong. I already knew I was born with male genitals but had a female mind and presented with obvious female mannerisms.
I knew it since the time I could remember. In those years gender clinics did not offer any significant assistance or guidance toward correcting my gender disorder. However, all were very kind and demonstrated the utmost professionalism. Transsexual people were literally on their own. Quite simply, I was told to go home, seek therapy, a Gynecologist and start dressing as a woman toward eventual gender reassignment surgery. The doctor at Johns Hopkins also said, they (Johns Hopkins) would not do surgery unless my family all agreed to support my decision to have the recommended corrective GRS surgery. Mind you I was of an adult age at that time and didn't understand the level of importance a family support structure can be; one because of all the new information and secondly, the parents had never been there in a positive way so I did not rely on them. Today, the best scenario of course is to have a supportive family when transitioning but isn't required or always available. The flight home to the mid west and the job was reflectively surreal. I had a feeling life was not going to be easier for what I had just experienced. Thrust in to a world of judgment, ignorance and hate of difference to cope with my situation; alone in my own private hell as I knew my family would never ever be supportive. I would be remiss here not to acknowledge The Harry Benjamin works entitled "The TRANSSEXUAL PHENOMENON" (originally published by THE JULIAN PRESS, INC. PUBLISHERS, New York (1966)) provided clinics with basic patient care recommendations which later became well known as The Harry Benjamin Standards of Care. Of course these standards of care have been revised and improved with time, research knowledge and a continued effort to help people like me. Parents have now become more proactive in their child's psychological well-being when the kids demonstrate overt behaviors noted to be different
than their perceived male or female physical attributes. Thus, psychotherapy
can start at a young age to ensure positive outcomes during their growth cycles toward a productive adulthood.

How fortunate I would have been had my family acquired a knowledge base stable enough to "see" and help me rather than to "see" and abuse me; be ashamed of me; feel embarrassed and point the guilt finger. No matter what my choice, family life was sure to be stressed at best. Mother was particularly pretentious with a spurious presentation of life in the family. Looks and what friends thought meant everything to her. Then on the other-hand she was most generous with her time and emotional investment when it came to people who were ill. Then again, if she was at odds with someone in the family other than my sibling and father, we kids were encouraged not to talk to that family member.
I did not follow that rule at all. My father (as emotionally abusive as my mother) thought since I was gay he could not acknowledge his son to anyone. He only spoke of my sister. That realization stung as much as the abuse or perhaps even more. Thus sharing the Johns Hopkins diagnosis was not an option. Sadly, I fell from the family setting. Spending holidays with them was unbearable. It was
not because they were bad but it was awkward putting on a false face and not being myself. I loved them but I just had to separate myself at times due to my mother's ridicule. I missed my sister, brother in law and the kids very much and this feeling has never gone away.

In the spirit of being driven, I contacted professionals associated with a gender clinic at The University Of Michigan. It seemed as if their program was more progressive but finances are always a consideration and I continued going to John's Hopkins for a while as their program was funded and my appointments were free to include physical/psychological exams and blood work. The funding was for research. I discerned the nude photos they took of me were for medical research file data. These photos were of me front back side and some rather interesting positions. No explanation required.

Moving forward now at age 22 or 23, I was working two full time jobs having now schooled in cosmetology. This was a good thing as I was always busy working either at the hospital or the beauty salon. Around the same time I began working third shift at the hospital where I met my new family. I was the youngest person and the other staff was older, parents, and some were grand parents. Most saw me as gay. A few however did know about my being transsexual......not quite understanding homosexual and transsexual are not the same. This group of wonderful people embraced me and accepted me just as I am. We celebrated one another's birthday, holidays, and did activities outside of work as well. They protected me, loved me and these relationships continued for 15 years and in some cases longer. After that, one by one they either quit work or retired and I found myself so alone. Oh my...I had the absolute best friends....this extended family did in so many ways replace my real family. I so appreciate having had them in my life, lifting me up and supporting me for many years. I am blessed to have had their friendship. Today, so many of this great group have passed on (although, right now I am not sure who is gone) and in that realization I find my self disquieted and saddened with each loss. Their loving memory is a sustaining force.

Within the gay community, I made friends and attempted to live as normal a life as possible. Many of my gay friends knew about my gender issues but none ever pursued it. There were love relationships along the way but something was wrong; ME. In fact at the time and for as long as I could remember I was never able to be completely who I am. A group of gay folks included me in to their friend circle and I began to drink heavily as time went by and used various drugs to dull my personal painful hell. This unhealthy coping went on for many years. I was 32 or 33 when I quit working at the salon but employment at the hospital continued. I decided at age 35 to attend college and quit all substance abuse. I also went on to achieve all my educational goals and became a LPN , Registered Nurse and was requested to set on a nursing advisory board for a college by appointment of the dean and president. Within this time frame, my father, grandmother and two dear lady friends died. Note: I foolishly thought education and achievement would take away my gender dysphoria. NEVER happened. Midway thru my educational experiences, I ended up on antidepressant medication for the first time in my life. The doctor said a full time college nursing program mixed with working full time can provide depression. As I recall, just about all of my nursing class was taking something by graduation......either an antidepressant like me, alcohol or marijuana. Still, I was and continue to be proud of what I accomplished. I worked my butt off.
Not forgetting my gay friends, I had some of the best unique and wonderful experiences of my life. My heart holds many extraordinarily wonderful fond memories of fun, people and sunshine. ("I Thank you".)
.Courtney.

Now age 40, I was on the job as a Registered Nurse still presenting as male. There were always the gay jokes in front of me and behind my back. I laughed right along with people who talked about me; kind of think many of them grew to like me. My love of nursing really helped me deal. Little did they know what the future would reveal. In any case I was promoted from clinical nurse to supervisor within a 18 to 24 month time frame; continued to fulfill my obligations to the college by remaining affiliated with the nursing advisory board. It was now 1992. Even with my small successes I spent a fair amount of time dealing with my misery. As I think about work there, what strikes me most is the subtle environmental flavor of discrimination and hostility among staff throughout the entire work place. So many unhappy people for so many reasons doing very little work for very good pay and benefits. Not wanting to offend anyone, I think some healthcare work can stress and harden an employee. I dunno. Just a thought I guess. I rarely reflect up on it.

Hmmm. Transition / After GRS: You can never know what life will throw at you.
Some of it is beyond painful and the rest is filled with positive discoveries and affirmations about yourself and who you are. Fight for it if it is right for you.
Early 1994, a gal took me along to a clinic for people with gender problems. I was tested, attended group and private therapy sessions. Clinic professionals agreed with The Johns Hopkins diagnosis made years before when I was age 19; I was transsexual. Finally “help” was here but not without cost both financial and emotional.

In May of 1994 my therapy sessions increased to twice a week and I traveled monthly out of state to the clinic for therapy preparatory for what I hoped would be GRS (Gender Reassignment Surgery). I was evaluated by this psychiatrist and then another psychiatrist. Under physician care, Estrogen Replacement therapy had also begun. I was off work for 6 months as well. Interestingly, I went on leave from work presenting as male and months later returned as the female I am. I was still transitioning toward GRS but lived as female 24/7 per Harry Benjamin Standards of Care. I legally had my name changed and all other pertinent credentials to include Social Security and drivers license to reflect I am indeed female. The experience was like going thru my adolescence all over again and re-socializing to my new life. Happiness in one hand and stressful coping in the other. The happiness coming from being me for the first time in my life; the stress from coping came from family and societies treatment and perceptions of the what and why of having Profound Gender Dysphoria. I think we all know the concept is multifaceted and difficult at best to describe where we are concerned; equally if not more-so confusing for others in our life to comprehend and adjust to. Some people just do not possess healthy coping strategies. But then I'll bet you already knew that. Oops. So sorry. However, the clinic that assisted in my transition, walked me through the steps, was amazingly helpful and the staff was there for me 24/7 during every critical moment of my life change. It does not get any better than that.

Informing my mother ended monstrously painful for me and for her. One never knows how sharing gender diagnostic information will be received by relatives or friends. The events of that day remain in my mind like indelible ink. It was to be the last time I saw mother. The mere nature of what was to be shared with her required a gentle approach. Given the choices and or alternatives she selected suicide for me rather than for me to do what I had to do. Her major concern was how her friends would take it fearing they wouldn't speak to her again and or turn her away. Apparently she thought it was something I could hide as she was shocked to learn people were finding out I had gender dysphoria and planned corrective surgery. She disowned me. My sister said my brother in-law did not want any part of it and my sister followed suit. My brother in-law was the person in the family I held most high as he never had a cross or derogatory word for me and when I lost him it was a whole lot of loss. I believe my sister simply respected her husband and marriage and may have feared losing a mothers love if she supported me. Just speculation. The feeling of abandonment is up on you and that never goes away. The people I believed would be there for me turned away. Apparently the idea of, "People are not disposable" never crossed their minds.

Family

All I wanted in life since I can remember, was a morsel,

yet I was presented a fake feast.
Well, I had wanted a morsel for a long time, and yes, I
would have accepted more.
But all I needed was a tiny bit; a tad more than just a taste.
I needed enough to survive. That's all I wanted.
Okay, so maybe more than just minimum sustenance...
All I ever wanted and all I want now is for the hunger to
go away; Far, far away.
So, when I was shown this feast, I was undoubtedly tempted.
I was told that it was not for me; could not be for me.
And I feigned to be okay with that. I would just stare at all
that nourishment while my stomach grumbled deafeningly.

But all I ever wanted was a morsel.

I continued to stare at the feast. My mouth watered.
I was thrown scraps and I ate them.
Maybe I shouldn't have.
My hunger grew. That feast was mine. Mine, damn it.
But all I could do was stare and drool.
I was intoxicated with the smell. It was the smell of fulfillment.
I poked at it so I could at least feel something.
And so it was taken from me-All of it-No scraps.

All I ever wanted was a morsel.

Author Unknown

I knew there was only one thing I must do; Follow my path. I mean, it is isn't like it's new to me having spent my life up to now living with HBS. Then when you find others like you and people who care and can help, it becomes all consuming to become a whole person................................. Click here or below for pg. 2.

Updated: 10/01/2009

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