Constructive criticism? You mean insults!

In which I try and sort out my own feelings on the difference between acceptable critique and bullying.

At 10am I was woken from my sleep, one of the first time's I've slept well in weeks. During the night I had woken once and struggled to return to sleep. I had gone to bed at perhaps, 11:30 the previous evening and was asleep by almost 1am. In addition to these facts, I have been unwell for almost 2 months at this point, my sleep has been almost non-existent in terms of what one would consider to be a 'full' sleep. I have been waking almost hourly for the duration of this illness. I provide these details for one sole purpose. To demonstrate that at 10am this morning, I was tired. Not so tired that I couldn't move, but without sufficient energy to keep my head bolt upright and smiling.

This, apparently, is my own fault.

For some time I endured the usual repetitive barrage of questions; "What's the matter?" "Why do you look so miserable?" "Why aren't you smiling?". The first time someone hears these questions it can be irritating, especially when there is nothing wrong. I have heard these questions every time I have shown anything less than jubilation on my face for as long as I am able to recall. The simple answer to all these questions, which I provided both before the questions came to me AND after each question was asked is simply "Nothing, I'm just tired". At one point, I allowed myself to believe that this answer had been accepted, until I heard "Well don't talk to me then...".

There are many combinations of circumstances which lead a person to be in possession of conversation topics, however being half asleep and only just out of bed do not appear to be one of them. I accept that conversation is a two way street, but I find it difficult to understand the mindset of the person who rouses another from rest in order to talk, and then refuses to initiate anything in the way of conversation. I made this clear, which evidently was an error on my part.

A topic was chosen. Illness. My illness to be precise. Understand that when I say 'my illness', I mean it in the terms I understand it, namely 'I am currently unwell after being in hospital on two occasions within the last month. Unfortunately, my mother sees it another way. Despite having spoken to her friends who have undergone similar procedures - one reporting to have been ill for over 2 months afterwards, the other claiming to have felt unwell for several weeks - my mother remains steadfastly convinced that I am, in fact, making the whole thing up. Or at the very least (when she is in a better mood) that I am exaggerating it and that any effects I am experiencing are 'all in my mind'. I am, to hear her tell it, "Not trying hard enough to be well".

For clarifications sake I shall describe the symptoms I am experiencing:
On the Wednesday of last week, I took a trip to C________. I went to the train station, and when I arrived at my destination I was required to take a twenty-five minute walk to the centre of town in order to reach my destination. During my time on the train I experienced symptoms that have been likened to vertigo. Significant dizziness, nausea, flashes in my vision. All highly disorientating and most unpleasant. During the walk I experienced kidney pain, groin and abdominal pain, I significant and painful need to urinate. In addition my experiences from the train had increased in magnitude by this time. During the course of the next hour I had gone from able to walk, to being doubled over in a chair, shivering, sweating, in significant pain and unable to focus on anything around me.

Fortunately I have no experienced anything this bad since then. I have, however, been subjected to pain and dark red urine, dizziness, nausea and lack of concentration if I walk or stand for more than 10 minutes since then. Today I am fortunate enough to say I am merely experiencing some occasional kidney pain, increased need to urinate (and pain associated therein), discomfort when lying down and lack of concentration.

In addition to these, I have changed medications as the previous made me physically sick, so I am also dealing with the effects of new medicine.

I hope from this it will be as difficult for you as it is for me to understand how, or even WHY I would go about faking this.

To a point, I accept I could be doing SOMETHING, and to that effect I have been trying to complete my university work, I have attempted on two occasions to walk my dog (and felt dreadful afterwards), I have searched for employment, I have tidied and done odd jobs around the house. Could I go back to work? The simple answer, is no. My job involves chasing a young boy (aged 12) around his home for up to four hours at a time. He is physically strong, incredibly active and entirely unable to understand the need to stay still. He is also unable to understand what is safe or appropriate for him to do, that is my job. If I am not able to do that to my full capacity, I have a problem. If I am not AT work, the boys parents are able to plan around this. They know there is no extra help. If I AM at work, I am being paid to take that responsibility off their shoulders for a while. Whatever happens is on my head. It would be foolish, not to mention unethical for me to return to work if I am not able to do the job.

I can accept that I need to get better and that I need to be trying to do SOMETHING so I can get back to work. I understand that. What I am unable to understand is how "You need to get better" manages to become "This is why you'll never get a job, you don't even try and make yourself better".

On Wednesay this occurred again. On the way to hospital, we were discussing my previous doctors appointment, when the question of my new tablets came up. I know they are a form of anti-depressant. I was given them because the last ones made me vomit. However, it is my understanding that when a doctor says "Take these" his years of training in medicine would outweigh my complete lack of medical knowledge and thus I should respect his opinion unless I have specific reason not to. This, according to my mother, is not the case.

Now again, I can take constructive criticism. In this case, that might have been "Next time, why don't you ask what [whatever drug the give me] is supposed to do? Or how long it should be before you notice any differences". That is constructive. It points out things that I could do next time to get more out of my doctors visit. I know I didn't do those things this time, and I now know what I can do next time. Had it stopped there, I would have remained happy. But, alas, it did not. What I actually got was the above, followed by:

"So why didn't you!? That's how doctors get away with poor practice! You should have told him you wanted to know..." and so on.

My issue here is that it switches the focus away from improvement and turns it instead to shaming for things I did not think of. It is impossible for me to re-do the appointment. I am well aware of what I did and didn't do, so why is the extra necessary? All it seeks to do is turn a valid point, into a lesson in shame. Here is what you could do better, becomes "It's people like you that let doctors get away with terrible things".

This is becoming a regular occurrence. If I do wrong, I know about it. I know I need to find a better paying job. The constructive thing to do, is to say "Have you looked here?" or "I say that **** has a sign up". Instead I get "I bet you haven't even bothered to look" and "You'll never get a job because...".

This happens in most aspects of my life. A valid point is made, and is promptly followed up by something putting me down. Something designed to make me feel shame. At times it feels like it is done to bring forth anger, a feeling compounded when my mother decides to try and block the exit to whichever room I happen to be standing in. This leads me to wonder, how is this behaviour different to that which I experienced at the hands of my schoolyard tormentors for most of my life?

True, now I do get something constructive occasionally, but it is overshadowed by the follow up. YOU are the problem. This situation is YOUR fault. Why haven't YOU fixed it?? Why haven't YOU just taken a job already? Why are YOU not making YOURSELF better?

I am left with a conundrum. Do I accept my mothers position and tell myself that everything bad that happens, every thing that goes wrong, everything I don't do perfectly is my own fault? That it is something I am doing on purpose as an excuse to mope? No, I can't do that. I've had 23 years of blaming myself for the world. Some things are my fault, but they are almost always overlooked in favour of something worse, something I can't help.

So my alternative, do I ignore it? If I ignore it I am a child again. "Fine, sulk" "Have a tantrum". There are no bad moods here. I am, apparently, unable to be in a bad mood. I sulk, it seems. I throw a tantrum. If I avoid anger, I become a baby. If I try and leave the room to avoid becoming angry and confrontational (something about 7 doctors and a handful of mental health professional have told me to do - something mum is well aware of) then I am being childish and running away from the problem.

So my final alternative, do I fight it? How do you fight this position. If I point out a flaw, it's an excuse. If I point out unnecessary shaming, it was never said or it was taken the wrong way. If I quote, I'm lying. If I provide evidence, it is dismissed. If I find fault in evidence then past experience is invoked. If I point out I can't show improvement if focus is trained on the past, I am a fool.

How do you question someone who does not value logic or evidence from anyone but them?

Self esteem, thy name is Holly

In which I write something that has prevented me from sleeping since it popped into my brain at 3am!

Yesterday my mood could be described in many ways. Happy, stupid, elated, weird. All kinds of things for no apparent reason. I found everything funny, couldn't stop giggling. It was great. I've not felt like that...well probably ever. It was amazing.

I had been feeling good since I left the house in the afternoon to go to my group therapy session, and my mood only improved as the evening progressed. During the session I told the group (one of whom already knew) about my exploits over the last few days. I told them I had created a profile on a dating site, and that I had challenged myself and actually messaged someone. They never responded but that wasn't the point. The point was to prove to myself that I can actually initiate things like this, and that the worst that can happen is basically nothing!

On the website, the only thing people are shown initially is the picture. The profile is shown to people who have a similar personality. Although I have stated in my profile I am trans, the profile is listed as female. This means that to anyone who has seen the picture, they have been told it is a girl. So far I've had over 100 people look at my profile. 100 people who have seen that picture and thought 'that is a picture of a girl'. This in itself is amazing. To think that people have seen a picture of me and not even questioned my gender is fantastic. But I realised it also means that over 100 people have seen that picture and thought that I'm cute enough to read the profile. Now I know a lot of people who would say that isn't such a big deal. Well all those people can consume a pile of whatever thing you find most unpleasant because to me that is amazing. I have never in my life considered myself to be worth somebody else's time, but as I've been able to be Holly, I've started to change that. This has demonstrated to me that I apparently AM worth a second glance. That I'm not so unpleasant that you wouldn't even click the image!

Unfortunately for me, I have yet to have any messages. It's probably rather unfortunate that for all the straight guys looking at my profile, the first thing they will read is that I'm trans and probably jump ship. But that got me thinking about something else. My therapist said yesterday that he wondered what it would be like when I actually got a date. I wasn't sure, but I guessed it would be bad. I'm nervous and generally still worried about everything. Am I worth their time. Do they even like me. Is the whole trans thing a problem. But at 3am my brain decided it needed to wake me the hell up and teach me a lesson about self esteem.

The first paragraph of that profile says in no uncertain terms that I am trans, pre everything. I'm sure this puts a lot of people off, because let's face it, it's not what most people are looking for. I felt disheartened. "If only someone would give me a chance, and maybe see my personality" I thought. "If only".

Then I realised something. Something important. I don't WANT someone to 'give me a chance'. I don't want to go on a date with some guy who is essentially doing it because he "might be able to love a tranny" or treats me like a man who happens to be wearing a dress. I don't want that at ALL. Not only that, but I realised I DESERVE better! I realised that if I'm honest with myself, I have a lot to offer someone. I am sweet and kind, funny and fun apparently. If I had the right person I'd do almost anything for them. I would make an excellent girlfriend to the right person. But I DESERVE someone who likes me for who I am. EXACTLY who I am. Someone who looks at me and thinks "That's Holly. SHE is my girlfriend." Someone who can celebrate the fact that I've discovered myself and am becoming the person I am supposed to be! I deserve that, nothing less!

This, for me, is huge. It's the first and only time I can recall where I've been able to sit there and say "these things are good about myself". The first time I've been able to think "I deserve someone special, not whoever happens to tolerate me long enough". The first time I've ever felt confident about things.

YAY!

The one with the challenge

Holly sets herself a challenge. Ross and Chandler are busy making dinosaur puppets. Phoebe discovers she is really a vampire.


Yeah I just made myself part of the cast of friends, what of it?

So, as I wrote...yesterday? Was it? Well whenever it was, I made myself a dating profile. I've filled it all in. I TRIED to make it sound appealing. Mr J says its good, and if he thought it was crap he would tell me 'cause Mr J is a nice man who wants me to find a nice boyfriend (or girlfriend)!

But I hear what you're all shouting. "Holly" you cry "Holly. You are to much of a scaredy cat to go on a date with someone". To which I say, "Yes probably!". But that wasn't the point...well it's a little bit the point. Well actually it is a LOT of the point. I don't like the idea of dating but I have to be realistic, the chances of me waking up next to the guy of my dreams tomorrow is pretty slim (that or I have a very sad life ahead of me with the dinosaur cushion!).

So anyway, it's all filled out, I uploaded a picture and answered a bunch of questions. Now so far I've had quite a few views. Which is good, because it means that so far at least 100 people with basic accounts have seen the picture it shows them and thought 'eh, she's kind of cute'. Frankly these people could have exceptionally low standards, I don't care, for two reasons.

1. It proves that SOME people like how I look
2. It proves that at least 100 people either thought I was a cis-female or didn't care.

Which is excellent. I have stated pretty clearly that I am trans, pre-everything in the profile because frankly I can do without messaging people who disappear when they find out. I'd rather have it out of the way.

The first person that viewed my profile, actually appeared to be a damned good match. He even 'liked' my profile.  For some reason the site tells you they liked it but doesn't tell you what rating the gave it out of 5, so frankly I have no idea...I assume if it was low it wouldn't be liked? I might have to test it! Well anyway I liked his profile back and basically told myself that I didn't expect a message. Probably wise, because I haven't had one.

HOWEVER (and this is the reason this was worth its own blog post) I set myself a challenge. Now I won't lie, because Mr J doesn't like it when I say I didn't want something to happen when secretly I really did and I need to stop doing it. If I am honest, I wanted a message from him. I didn't expect one, but it would have been nice. I have NO idea what I would have done, but still, it would have been nice. But after waiting for some time I set myself a challenge. If I want that message so bad, I have to send one to him!

Then I chickened out.


Fortunately I did whatever the female equivalent of 'growing a pair' is and sent him a message! Nothing much, just saying hi and asking if he wanted to message me at some point. I don't imagine he will, and if he doesn't, it's not the end of the world, because at least it proves that I CAN do it if I want to. Of course the harder part is keeping that going and/or finding people to actually message, but one step at a time!

So yeah, go me! Dating pro!

The nights are the hard parts

In which I inform you as to why I wish I had a single bed.

Long time no write, blog people, and with good reason, I've done bugger all.

Well that's not true at all. In fact, it's a downright lie. I have, in reality, gone from being a closet girl to being Miss ******* to the whole wide universe!

I'll do the catchup quickly and move on to the next bit!

So it's not been what...exactly a month apparently, since I told my sisters and was allowed to live as the real live human girl I'm supposed to be. So to all those people who were waiting for me to say "This was a huge mistake", can I now take this opportunity to bite my thumb in your direction. That's right, I went all Shakespearian on your arses!

Anyway, the last month has been amazing. I've had some of the most amazing messages of support from so many people. I have felt better about myself every single day. I've still had bad days, and they've been really bad, but at least I started them on a high note! There is something about waking up under your nice girly blanket wearing your nice girly pyjamas that makes everything seem OK.

I've since returned to work AND choir and everyone has been great. I still hate shaving all the damn time, but hey, I'm happier than I've ever been. But more on that another time.

Today I address the problem of my bed. Or specifically the fact that I'm the only one in it. Don't let your minds run away with you, I'm not talking blue here, I'm just lonely and bored.

Friends are great. You can watch movies with them, eat junk food and generally be lazy. Unfortunately, unless you have some sort of prior agreement with them, you can't snuggle up to them while this goes on. So far in my life I've never wanted that. Now I do. So in the interests of fixing that, I've done something WILD AND CRAZY.

DUM DUM DUUUUUM.

I made a profile on a dating site.

Yes. For anyone who knows me, you will appreciate the magnitude of this. For those of you that don't know me, allow me to explain.

I HATE meeting new people. It scares the hell out of me.

But I figure, statistically, someone out there has to want the same things I want. Someone will like me for who I am, and I'm not going to find them sitting here complaining about it on the internet! Since I can't exactly go OUT and find them, this will have to do.

Will I ever respond the the unlikely event of a message? I have no idea...we'll have to wait and see.

Two down, one to go

In which I reveal the facts concerning the most important two days I am likely to experience.


I've told a lot of people about my transition plans now, and it doesn't seem to get any easier. I never know how to start. Nobody knows how to react. I never know what people will say or do. It's awful but it needs to be done.

Tomorrow I will be telling my sisters. This is the final hurdle for me as far as telling people goes. Once they know, I can live as Holly full time. Forever. This last week has been awful for me but I've made it through by reminding myself that I have less than a week to go.

Tomorrow is going to be scary. I've not told a child this news yet and I don't know what will happen. I'm really not sure what to say. I have plans and ideas but I have no idea if I will stick to them. But tomorrow they will know. Needless to say I am really worried. But telling the girls is a small thing compared to what I did today. The girls are young, they will get used to it. But today I tackled the other end of the family spectrum...

Today I told my grandparents!

I have written before about my Dad's parents and about how nervous I have been about telling them. In the past my grandad has threatened to ban me from the house for wearing nail-varnish. My dad says he is a straight-up homophobe. I've not been sure how my granny would react but since she once tried to tell me how I was a fool because 'Evolution is a lie' I was not hopeful.

My Dad was also scared. On the way to their house he nearly burst into tears for fear of 'my family letting us down'. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he really didn't want them to react badly.

When we arrived, it transpired that my Grandad was still at work. We decided to eat and tell Granny on her own. I explained the situation as carefully as I could. It would be no in no way an exaggeration to say she looked ill. She began to move things around the dinner table just for something to do.

Then she said something I feel ashamed to admit I was not expecting to hear. "Well, we'll always love you and we'll never turn you away!"

Every so often she would remind me to 'think carefully' about the situation. I think this was more for lack of better words than anything else as she continued to find random tasks with which to occupy herself. By the end of the evening I had explained to her what I needed to and she has begun to start calling me 'dear' or 'my grandchild' to help her transition away from ****** and towards Holly.

Grandad returned from work shortly after I had informed Granny. She sat at the table looking ill and I asked Grandad to take a seat next to her. I explained the situation to him. His reaction was the one I feared most, for reasons I do not fully understand. I asked him to tell me honestly what he thought, even if I wouldn't like it. He told me he thought the whole thing was a bad idea. He said he couldn't encourage it at all.

However, he agree to keep an open mind if he saw that it made me happy. He told me before I left that he would probably end up calling me ***** for a long while, but if he DID he wasn't doing it to make me feel bad. He wanted me to know that.

I still have no idea how they will take it in the long run. Granny thinks she will cry when she sees me for the first time. Maybe she will. But for the scariest thing I can think of doing, it all went really well!

Hi, I'm Holly! Pleased to meet you!

In which I smash three or four days worth of interesting things in to one blog post!


Today as I write I am fully 'dressed' and smiling like a fool! Frankly, I have a lot to be happy about. On Monday, I wrote about how I had told my Dad about Holly. I told him he was welcome to tell my Step-mum if he wanted, or we could wait until I saw her next (which admittedly would probably have been Christmas and not really the best time!). The next day I got an email from her telling me how I had her full support and saying that Dad appeared to be taking the news very well, and coming up with practical questions like how to find shoes that fit! I have asked her to keep an eye on him, but hopefully he will really be fine with it! I have no idea if my Step-sister knows yet.

When I woke up the next day I was still essentially high of my own achievement. My grandma had come over for the afternoon and we decided to walk the dog. (I'm beginning to see a pattern here that most of my important stories come from something that happened while walking the dog!) Once we got to our usual dog-walking field, I started thinking.

I was of the opinion that Grandma would be fine with my news. Others were less sure. I was feeling extremely over-confident and decided to go for it. We had a reasonably long talk about it. Turns out, she seems OK with it. I'm not sure if it is simply that she understands that in this day and age you have to accept things you don't necessarily agree with or if she actually thinks it's OK but either works. I guess I'll find out eventually.

Wednesday I told my step-dad. My mum gave me a lot of grief about the way I told him. I maintain that telling him and sitting for a solid hour afterwards with him not saying anything about it particularly was a perfectly acceptable way of doing things, but apparently not. He took it really well when I told him and then didn't speak. Apparently, so mum says, he needed to 'digest' and then wouldn't talk bring it up on his own for fear of prying into somebody else's business. I still fail to see how that is MY fault but what can you do. Either way, the next day I spoke to him again and told him if he had any concerns or questions at all that he should feel free to come up and say so.

This morning I got up and was handed a letter from him. His choice of words was a little odd in places. His decision to use the phrase "If you are man enough to go around wearing a frock then I am man enough to let you" amused me for so many reasons. The use of the words 'man enough'. The idea that he has even the slightest element of control about whether I can be Holly. However his message came through well enough. Essentially, that as long as I am sure this is what I want and I don't suddenly start breaking our 'house rules' then he is fine with it and supports me.

These are all good things and I am proud of all of them. However, my favourite two pieces from the last week I have saved until last.

On Wednesday I attended my first session of phase 2 CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy). It is a group therapy session and the only person in the group I know is the therapist. The rest of the group I have never met and historically I am very bad with new people. When I walked into the room slightly early, there was one girl already sat there. I took a seat and she introduced herself. I immediately responded "Hi, I'm Holly!".

I hear you saying "Well who cares, you said hello to someone!" however this introduction was significant to me. Firstly because I initiated the conversation. With a stranger. I have NEVER done that before and I did it with some confidence. The second reason is because it was the first time I have introduced myself as Holly. My friends, who have met me as Holly, know me already and I didn't feel the need for an introduction, so this was my first time. There was no hesitation. No thought involved. No sense that it felt wrong. It was a completely natural, comfortable reaction. It wasn't until I got home that evening that I realised how pleased I was with myself. Throughout the rest of the session I spoke to people with confidence, shared my own stories and was able to react better with this group than I had been able to with my previous group after 13 sessions!

My therapist said at one stage how pleased he was. "There was always an edge to you before. Don't ask me too many questions. Short sharp answers. A lot of underlying anger and aggression. Where has all that gone?" I cannot understate just how much better I feel in myself now, I knew this, but this session proved it. I explained how different I felt and how I was able to smile and generally emote. My therapist was pleased to be able to conclude that all of this was genuine. That I was able to smile and talk happily to other people without wanting to escape or tell them to leave.

I had initially planned to change back to boy mode for the train ride home, but after the session I decided not to. I walked back through the city towards the train station. I stood on the station and rode the train home. Every so often I would catch my reflection in something. I'm not the prettiest girl in the world...may face is too fat, I can't do make-up and my eyebrows look wrong. HOWEVER. Every time I say my reflection I noticed my smile. I've NEVER seen a smile on my face in a reflection before but it was always there. On top of that I FEEL super pretty. I don't care one way or the other how other people see me, I doubt I'll ever be the girl all the guys chase after but it doesn't matter. I felt amazing and I still do!

The second piece was this morning. Later on today my Brother, my mum and I are going to a gig. I have mentioned this gig before, it means the world to my brother and I. However I will be attending as Holly. Mum has not met Holly. I have been begging her since I told her to meet me as Holly BEFORE today because she seemed certain that she would freak out. She refused on the grounds that she would rather see it then have driving to focus on.

I was unable to persuade her that this wasn't a good idea. However I did alter it a little. My sisters are not coming back to our house after school so I can be Holly all day. So when I got up, I picked out my outfit (which looks fab by the way!) got dressed and went to see mum. I made my brother go downstairs first to find mum and stand around with her. She took it really well. She still sees 'the same person', which frankly is what I want. I AM the same person, I just look how I want(ish!). She likes my clothes, and thinks I look a bit like her (well go figure!). But she wasn't weird about it and she seems happy enough. I'm really really pleased with this result! She suggested some mascara would help balance out the eyebrows so I'll have to figure that out later! Then we had a chat about how to deal with my illusion-breaking voice!

She also isn't convinced I can rock a hair bow, but I think I can so I'm going to! Even my brother thinks I look nice.

Daddy's girl!

In which I explain the reasons that my Dad has earned more respect today than in his whole life combined.


Today I told my Dad my plans. I tried my hardest not to freak out before hand. I plunged myself into skyrim for a few hours to try and take my mind off it. Before I left the house to meet up with him I felt a surge of confidence (or possibly adrenalin). I was all kinds of early and kept begging my brain not to let the random confidence boost fade away.

Dad arrives at our meeting place and immediately offers to take us for some food. I suggested it might be wise to hear at least the first part of what I had to say. We sat and I offered him my opening line. "Dad, as soon as it becomes possible to do so, I intend to live the rest of my life as Holly". I don't believe I said it quite as rehearsed as it comes across, but the point was made. I have agonised about how he will react. A few people have suggested I prepare for the worst. As I noted previously, Mum had made it quite clear I should expect a bad reaction.

Dad took it like a champ! His initial reaction was exactly what I expected. A shocked look, a few words and a big hug. He asked me how long I'd felt that way and a few other things and I explained to him. He remained calm the whole time, although I don't think he quite knew how to react. We decided to go and eat anyway.

During our meal, I explained to him the transition process. We talked about what he thought of the whole thing and he made some jokes. He decided that the hardest part for him wouldn't be the new name, or the look. The hardest part would be that in his head I would be his "little boy" and it would take a long time to change that. He explained that for whatever reason when he thinks of my brother and I, we are still little in his mind. I don't know why this is and neither does he. It's a trait we share with him! People never seem to age in our heads! I am quite happy with this, he can take all the time he needs. The important part is he recognizes that fundamentally I will ALWAYS be the same person he has known and loved since I was born.

We discussed how we might break it to his parents. He even offered to be the one to tell them. This offer amazed me. I had thought, quite wrongly, that Dad might try and suggest I just don't do it around them and keep it hidden or might try and not take a side, or edge towards their side. But no. He chose a side. MY side. He is prepared to look his parents in the eyes and say My son is becoming my daughter and I support it! I hope you do too! and risk whatever the backlash is.

At one point he nearly burst into tears. Not because of what I had told him but because of something he had done to me. He says he regrets it more than anything else. He didn't let me come to his wedding. I had forgiven him for that long ago, but we have never discussed it at length. He told me how awful he feels about it and how he cries when he thinks about it. I know my Dad, he is like me. It takes a LOT to get us crying. If we are crying about something you bet your arse it is serious. He even asked "Do you forgive me for it?". If I hadn't forgiven him, he had more than made up for it during the course of our conversation. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was more than forgiven.

We talked for a while longer and he gave me a ride back to the train station. As I said goodbye and got stepped out of the car, he simply said "See you soon Holly!". I don't think I need to explain how amazing those words felt. I almost fell back into the car when I heard it. All I could say was thank you. I've had a smile on my face since then that shows no sign of going away.