He/She…

…I was called this today. It wasn’t malicious in intent…but it was vicious in result.  Apparently this person had referred to me that way behind my back and felt guilty about it. So they confessed to me today…

The reason given?  Apparently they say that they “see Jesus in me so much that I am a “he” to the person. 

Hmmmmm. I wonder if she calls Beth Moore a he/she? Or any other woman leader in church?  There are a ton of cis-women far more full of Jesus than I.

But even more, I wonder: why even say that? Like it is so deadening, so numbing. And I feel empty inside already.

Thanks, person. You really must be lightened in your conscience, confession made straight to my face and words used 3 times in explaining why it’s okay.

But hey why should I care? I am dead so big deal. 

Honestly, sometimes I wish I were. So many lives would have so much less to deal with.tumblr_mwe8yxcZhZ1rouua1o6_1280

Japan Was Far Away

When I was little I used to lay in bed
and it was like time would surround me,
fall down over me, on me, lay round me
like the blankets, rough and wool
(and scratchy, so I could never get comfortable).

But the problem was, time would not keep out!
No…it seeped thru my pores and wrapped round my bones
with its icy tendrils that could morph and move
like foggy fingers there and not there
(and just like time has always been, uncomfortable).

I got desperate and anguished and panicked
and I thrashed around frantic like a fish
hauled out of the lake and flopping on the deck
with a bitter hook caught at its jaws
(because hungry and wanting comfortable).

But I wasn’t actually moving, not really.
My body was still, frozen, fearful of fury
and the stormy flipping frenzied flailing
was all in my head while shadows laughed
(on walls akimbo and decidedly uncomfortable).

Those shadows all the way from Japan, there on my walls.
Kabuki pallbearers waiting to carry me to the last place
where the hook of time would be pulled at last from my jaw
and I thrown into…what…the larder, or back in the lake
(I feared each one, false friend and never comfortable)?

Finally, blankets scratchy and harsh, holding me down,
conspired with time and its frozen invasive thrusts
and I was filled with the brutal fecund flow washing
over my fertile imagination and there conceived such spawn
(shadows and time and me spawn something very uncomfortable).

Then that thing began to writhe, kick inside me, jaws working
faster and faster until I knew it would gnaw me thin, and then gone.
I knew it was chewing its way to the freedom denied me
and I screamed so fearful that ears could not hear it
(but my doggie did, she was never away from me and comfortable).

I screamed until I passed out, and blood spatter gouts spurted
their baptismal incantations as I gave birth to the only offspring
I could bear, the bastard child of time and shadow and fear,
and awareness left me like the dirty water of my bath draining
(it spiraled down clockwise…that wisdom so uncomfortable).

But I always woke up, as if nothing had happened
and my stomach was flat, unmarked, taut and young.
The sun shown bright and birds sang all round me
and there was nothing on the walls…not even a shadow of shadows
(and Japan was far away, bowing, waiting and comfortable).

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I am holding on to this right now

 

So there are some pretty serious things happening in my life right now, and they are quite stressful, quite discouraging, frankly.

Well, I ran across this today, and it was a good reminder for me…but best of all, it is true.

I get distressed, very much so and quite anxious as well…and somehow have to find the courage to go on when I just want it to all be over, but it isn’t going to be, is it?  Ever?  Not until the very last day at last.  But when that is I do not know, and how I will last until then, I do not know either.

So I am gonna try to make it thru the hour, and then the next, and then the next, and things will happen as they will.tumblr_neuit55IMJ1qgk7mfo1_1280

Another Coming Out is Coming…

Constance:

things are beginning to hop, move…bounce.  I am deeply moved that soon (it appears) there will be no need whatsoever to become and unbecome and become and unbecome…but rather to just become…allow the chrysalis to form, work, and then be rent…

In the past month, I have come out to_____ dept, and to 2 people I work with, I have found out that the gossip demon has been on fire so word has spread…and last night, I got a phone call from a person who I watch over at work, and I have known for 30 years…and he essentially demanded to meet.

As there is some significant history here, I felt I owed it to him…but I also found I was somewhat eager to speak with him, as it was just one more barrier fallen, one more obstacle overcome…and one step closer to the ultimate ground zero.

For a trans-person, ground zero is that place where you are only and always for the rest of your life just one person, and everyone else has to process and adjust what you have been dying on for however long you have drawn breath…and they will either launch their missiles or they will march across no man’s land and stand shoulder to shoulder with you…

My baby will be with me, today at 4 PM Pacific time…but I feel so alone right now.  Here, in the dark of another 3 AM (if you have followed my poetry you know that 3 AM is not the best time of day in my life), I sit…and the gristmill grinds inside, as it ever always has, long as I can remember…

…and I become anxiety’s thrall, its plaything and it is a cruel implacable cat with sharp claws and nasty growl.

I am alone.

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***********

It is an hour later…Mama is nigh.  She is always nigh, even when I am all alone and stark in the quiet dark.  In those times, for reasons I have no idea, Mama is silent, and She is not accessible, present…there is some way or factor of loneliness and endurance that She wishes to develop in me.

But She comes to me…eventually…She comes, thank God!  Because people:  we are weak, yes?  We tire, we falter…we rush with hearts bleeding and quick and then find fires raging that blister even at a distance…it is the way of the finite, the way of the creature.

But God, great in power and rich in mercy, and intensely inextricably committed and woven into our hearts…and Mama as Their sent One to me in these times of instruction I never got from my own mother, and why would I…back then in the night of bad dreams?

She has given me direction in how to precede if it goes this way, and if it goes that…She is loving me, pouring Herself in so that I will be full of Her in the moment and not full of my fear and anxiety and lonely hurt.

But in the meantime…if you think of me?  Please say a prayer for me, or if you are not the praying kind, then let your heart be tender for me, knowing that I am going to face some pretty big dragons today…

…and my old male self is going to die yet again…one of the first fruits in a funeral procession that will happen over and over and over and it gives me such a clash of feelings over it…total ecstasy  in being free…and total exhaustion in attempting to process all the feelings of those around me who are adapting to me being real and myself but calling it a death.

all that is dying is their expectation of how I will look when we meet.

it hurts to realize that how I look to them is who I am to them!  It is painful to recognize that in the name of “contending for me (him)” they are actually contending for their own comfort and maintenance of their personal status quo.

it is shatteringly discouraging to discover that the investment of time, tears, laughter, sweat, and yes even blood is null and void and in no way is retained by them as who I actually am!!  That who I am to them is a set of clothes…and a hair style…and a shaving decision…and a farcical acting out of a role forced on me when I was a child because that was the role my plumbing dictated to me! and yes, pun intended!!

Who I actually am stands for nothing?  How I have lived?  What I think?

I am defined only by what I do, how I conform?

It occurs to me that these questions have been asked by women since time immemorial.

Anyway…this one could go sideways quick.  Certainly the potential for policing on religious grounds is very real…and there has been enough life shared that the possibility of it going smoothly exists too.  There have been events in this man’s life involving others’ coming out for other reasons and with other dynamics that I think will strongly color his experience of this with me.  If he is able to separate me from them, then all will be well.

If not?

Well work tomorrow will be even more strained than it has become.

I will let you know how it goes…and thanks for being here.

Trembling like my doggie Millie,

Charissa Grace

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Anxiety’s Thrall

your eyes yellow and sucking light
from my soul white and drawn
your silent rumble purring tight
has sundered me from dawn

your weight, familiar from long visits
year in, day out, right there
to rip me with dread claws exquisite
and make my mind your lair

your cold breath, fetid, drenched with dark
consumes me in its cloud
and snuffs me, blows out every spark
of hope within its shroud

your claws flex and my heart bleeds
as you inhale my fear
I tremble when you yawn in greed
and dawn is nowhere near

I wait for dawn, it never comes
and I am just your toy
I cannot move, beneath your thumbs
while you live off my joy.

usually my faith is strong
and I can lift my head
but these times drown Her comfort song
I sit amongst the dead

but they are free from horror eyes,
from dreaded weight and breath,
from claws like lightening in night skies
they dance the waltz of death.

Wait for the Lord, Oh my soul
Stand firm, having done all
I wait in terror in dark like coal
just anxiety’s thrall
just anxiety’s thrall
just anxiety’s thrall
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I wanted to hear from you

(I go to see HR today…I am frightened stiff from the unknown.  And it is 3 AM, the worst time of all times in every day of times.  I wrote this in the attempt to loosen the grip of anxiety that tears inside…alas, it knows the teeth tracks of years and finds them effortlessly.  To be honest, I think this poem sucks…it is too much a mirror of me, bound and terrified in this moment.  But to be more honest, I think the act of sharing this poor bound baby poem is a stance of courage in the face of fear and my challenge hurled back, that I will never ever drink that hemlock escape.)

 

When I was sparkly fire and glow, and scintillating with insight
I heard from you.
I wanted to hear from you.

When I was prescient and perfect, precise and plenary
I heard from you.
I wanted to hear from you.

When I was funny and tickling and a madly capering jester
I heard from you.
I wanted to hear from you.

When I was torn and teary inside, and still like lakes at midnite
I didn’t hear from you,
I wanted to hear from you.

When I was thrumming stiff and stark, helpless in fear’s talons
I didn’t hear from you,
I wanted to hear from you.

When I was mute from sorrow and deaf from grief
I didn’t hear from you,
I wanted to hear from you.

I face unknown guillotines,
strange purveyor of power
whose lifted finger could be life
or the executioner’s twitch.
Does it mean life, or
death to my dreams and me?
Your words uncork my heart
unlocks my jaw
undeafs my ear
pour wine and set table
they calm, gentle me

I wanted to hear from you
I wanted to hear from you

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A very difficult return

Hi Constance…

We travelled last week to the East Coast, for the graduation of our youngest child from Villanova University.  He graduated with honors from the humanities department, with specialities in Philosophy, Theology, Classical Literature, and History.  We are so proud of him, of the growth and maturity it took for him.  I will write more of that later…

…but for now, if you are a regular reader here, then you will know the waves and cycles, ups and downs that transition entails.  It is a lot like regular life (I imagine, I have never known “regular life”), for we all have these moments I suspect.

But I am in a real hard place today…my insides ache so fiercely, and I mourn the return to my place of _____.  I can hardly bear it on good days, the constant stress that I am going to be blindsided by some new betrayal, the worry that people at higher layers will pass blame down the chain and in such a big ______ having no forum to present a different picture.

But on bad days…like today…I want to just die and get it over with.

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Don’t worry…I am not going to do anything precipitous.  I know that my life is not my own in that sense, to take as I will.  And I also know how awful the consequences would be for my beloved and my precious children.

But the time away was so wonderful, so freeing, with no 8 hour plus days of going back into the cell of other people’s gender expectations lest it create such a havoc that we not be able to get _____ done.  And havoc it would be:  the men that I _____ with would freak out.  They already use gay slurs and transvestite slurs regularly as humor…this does not offend me, but it does let me know that I don’t stand a chance of acceptance there.

They have no concept of the difference between a Transgender person and a transvestite. And the few attempts I have made to educate have been thoroughly rebuffed.

It is impossible to explain…the belief would be that I was on some sexual perverted escapade, or “into some freaky shit” (a phrase I once heard to describe someone who had some relational issues shatter them and in search of themselves, they made some pretty bad choices).

My insides are churning.

My soul aches, and is frantic within me to escape, and I want to just have it all over…and in sadness, as now, I don’t “care” how it ends.

Emotion always exacerbates situations…and I choose here, this day, to draw close to Mama, to let my heart pour out to Her as I beg Her to keep me safe, and not let the bullies have at me today.

Most likely, it will be as other times…the day will pass and I will gradually feel better, relieved when nothing major happens…but it seems that the more I taste of the life and freedom that is available to me…the more I experience the joy and wonder and miracle of wholeness, the fresh intimacy with Them, the harder it is to go back.

My worst fear is that I will burst into tears in front of the crew.

Oh God…I am sick inside with dread.  So…if you pray, please keep me in mind today.  I stand in the need, particularly acute this day.  And if you don’t pray, any positive thoughts or good will wishes you have to spare I will gladly receive…I know LG will gather them up and let those petals of positive regard fall upon me today.

Today’s hurt and pain and agony will be the building blocks of Tomorrow’s Triumphs…but for now…I am at the stake, and no where to go.

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I need to learn this…

Things at my work are becoming nearly unbearable.  I am anxious all the time, and never certain that I can do things right.  My honey told me that the manager whom I work under has done a good job of taking a confident, cheerful and decisive leader and transforming me into an anxious, depressed, uncertain, abused emotionally pathetic person.

I have literally never experienced being “bad” before at a job…and I mean by bad being told that my job performance is not up to par.  The people who work under me say this is a lie…and the public I work with would say it is a lie if I told them.

Truth is?  I am being scapegoated for this man’s own issues and shortcomings.

But it still affects me, it still is slowly destroying me, and I feel trapped, for I can earn a lot of money for us by remaining where I am.

So somehow I have to find a way to adapt, and to unconnect my soul from this oppressive and Mordor like inner climate.

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