I Hope I Didn't Disappoint Him

Whenever I look at my old baby pictures, I find myself staring into the eyes of a little boy who had his whole life in front of him. Those eyes were so full of life and I just can't help but wonder if somehow I haven't disappointed him in who I became and how I've lived my life. I know that this might sound strange, having this seemingly disconnect from reality, but when I look at those pictures, I just want to feel as if I did good, that the little boy staring back at me would be proud of how things turned out.

I've tried very hard to live a good life, to be a good person and make the most of this thing called life. Aside from a few typical teenage setbacks, I think I've done pretty good. I had a loving family that did it's best to give me every opportunity to succeed in life. I went to college, graduated only a semester late, sought out excitement and adventure in the years that followed and along the way found my calling in life. I bought a home, went to graduate school and graduated first in my class, got a job I love and for the past seven years, I have done everything in my power to make the lives of those most in need somewhat better.

I've been kind and supportive to all my friends, adored my family and everything they stand for. I'm kind to animals, devoted to my pets and my word is as good as it gets. I fight for causes that are just and believe in social justice, equality and peace. I'm well read, interested in art and appreciate some of the sillier things in life. In short, I've done a lot of amazing things and when I look back, I really have very few regrets. I still have a lot of life ahead of me and hopefully I'll find a way to make it meaningful.

I've done the best I could and I hope that little boy knows that I've done everything I could to make him proud.

I Wonder

I sometimes wonder if I don't have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I've been constantly tired for as long as I can remember, certainly since high school and no matter what I do, I just can't shake this constant feeling of sleep depravation and fatigue. Reading the signs and symptoms, I seem to have most of them. I'm not saying I do, what would be the chances of being diagnosed with two things as rare as this and Gender Identity Disorder, but I just can't help but feel that something isn't right.

Random Talk

1. The Democratic Primary will be over this time next Tuesday and Barrack Obama will be our candidate. Even Kos agrees with me (or could be the other way around).

2. I think what is so exciting about Obama's campaign is that we are truly witnessing a whole new way of campaigning. Howard Dean started it in 2004, but Obama has brought people powered politics to a whole new level. I especially like that he is building a 50 state strategy. He knows he won't win all the Red States, but does realize that there are a lot of Democrats further down the ticket who have a good chance to win. The more allies he has in Congress, the better chance he has to get his agenda enacted. Why not share a little with the man himself.

3. What liberal media? Another reason why I stopped watching cable news and quit reading the paper. The only way to find out what's happening in the world is online.

4. Another example of why the police in this country cannot be trusted. They are thugs and trigger happy.

5. I love Post Secret, it's one of the most delicious websites around. People confess a lot of strange stuff on there, but this one takes the cake:



6. I'll admit that Americans are way overmedicated, but to say that antidepressants don't work is a bit foolish. I can't function without them, though I know others who saw no help so who knows.

7. For those who have never visited, RedOrbit is one of the coolest sites around, especially if you like science, technology and photography. The picture below shows the snow cover around the Great Lakes last week. Notice that Lake Erie, the shallowest of the Great Lakes, is frozen over, cutting off the lake affect snow machine for Ohio and Pennsylvania.

Click image for a full size view.

8. I totally agree with Natalie Portman. They are spectacular.

Because I Don't Need Anymore Mayhem in My Life

Who can resist a game of tag with Jacq:

1. WHO WERE YOU NAMED AFTER?
My birth name was Gregory William Armstrong. The William was my Dad's middle name and they just liked the name Gregory. My new name is Kelly Joann Armstrong and that's the name they had picked out had I been born with the right parts. Kelly was just a name that they liked and Joann was the middle name of my Aunt, my Mom's sister.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
Last night as I went to bed.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
It's so bad that not even I can decipher it most of the time.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Roast Beef.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? Only the four legged kind. Woof Woof!

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
I hope so.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
Never.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS ?
Gone since 1980.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Absolutely.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Since I don't like milk, no cereal for me.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
I usually just slide my tennis shoes off though it damages the backs of them. Why I do this is beyond me.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
As emotional as I am, I'm surprisingly dependable in an emergency. For some reason, I tend to stay cool, calm and collected though the minor things do tend to get me all unsettled.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Chocolate anything.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Very little as I am usually so shy that I tend to not make eye contact.

15. RED OR PINK?
Since red is the color for the University of Louisville, our arch rival, I have to go with pink.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOU?
How fragile I am.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
My Aunt Katie. She's actually my great aunt, Mom's first aunt, and she was an amazing person. She had no more than a sixth grade education and a pretty hard life but she was never let it hold her back.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
Doesn't matter to me.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Pink Victoria's Secret pajama bottoms and socks.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
Chicken salad sandwich with swiss cheese and lettuce.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
The furnace, my dogs pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors and The Sarah Conner Chronicles on TV.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Grey.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
The way the air smells minutes before a thunderstorm begins and fresh baked cookies.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My friend Erin.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Who doesn't like her?

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Indy Car Racing, Formula One and college football.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Brown with blonde highlights.

28. EYE COLOR?
A really kick ass shade of green.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? At 38 years old, my vision is still perfect.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Mom's fried chicken, Ruth's Chris filet mignon and creamed spinach.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
I love dystopian tales so scary in that sense.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Jackass 2, twice.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE
YOU WEARING?
A white tee shirt.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
It would depend on where I live. When I lived in West Virginia, I loved the winter because we always ended up with several hundred inches of snow. Here in Kentucky winter is usually just dark and gloomy but summer is hot beyond belief. So how about fall?

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
I love kisses, even the Hershey variety.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Chocolate pot de creme.

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
No earthly idea.

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? See number 37.

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? "Twilight in the Desert" by Matthew Simmons. It's a wonkish book about how Saudi Arabia doesn't have the ability to produce the oil they claim they can.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Border Collies thank you very much.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
The Oscars.

42. FAVORITE SOUND?
Violent thunderstorms (lots of thunder), dogs barking and the nothingness you hear when in the mountains of West Virginia.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
No Beatles no Rolling Stones.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?


45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
They don't call me "McLovin" for nothing.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?


47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? Doesn't matter, these are kind of fun to do.

When I Was A Little Boy

I'm not sure how old I was when I discovered that boys and girls had different equipment. There was a time when I just assumed that everyone had the same thing. Regardless, the discovery that boys and girls didn't quite look the same had very little impact on my life or my believing that I had been born the wrong gender. At such a young age, genitals just didn't matter that much to me. No, what mattered to me was that boys and girls were supposed to behave differently, dress differently and play differently. For the life of me, I just couldn't figure out why things were the way they were and it hurt really bad inside.



I kept all of this to myself of course because no matter how much I wished it, I was stuck living my life as a boy. Whenever I could, I imagined myself as a girl and did my best to act as much like one as I could. I would prance around all girly, talk in a real high voice and pretend to be any of the girls that I knew. I vividly remember stealing the JC Penney's and Sears catalogs and sneaking off to my room. I would leaf through the toy sections and marvel at the easy bake ovens, dolls and other toys that girls were supposed to play with. It wasn't that I necessarily wanted to play with those toys, but because they were forbidden to me, they became that much more attractive. As I got older, I would use those same catalogs to look through the women's clothing and pick out the things that I wanted to wear.

In school I always preferred to be with the girls and I went out of my way to be included in as many things with them as I could manage. At home it was a different story. The neighborhood that I spent most of my childhood in had a preponderance of boys and absolutely zero girls. It was there that I learned how to be a boy, though I would never stop wanting to be a girl. I would spend most of my free time doing what other boys did, playing football, basketball, baseball and other macho things. By all accounts, I seemed like any other boy growing up in America. For the most part that was true, but I'm pretty sure that most boys in America didn't go to bed at night and cry into their pillows, wondering why in the hell they had been cursed with a body that didn't match the mind.



That was the worst part of all this, the never ending nights of tear soaked pillowcases and never answered prayers from God. It's a horrible existence to know that you are living a lie and can't be who you are supposed to be. A young child just doesn't have the ability to handle such weighty issues and yet everyday in this world, there are tens of thousands young boys and girls going through the same things I went through all those years ago. That any of us manage to grow up and become functioning members of society is nothing short of a miracle. I've said it many times before and I'll say it again, this is a horrible curse and I would not wish this on my worst enemy.

Many years later, I still cry myself to sleep.

June 4, 2007

I know that very few people are actually reading this and that's okay. The whole point of this and my previous blog was to give me a chance to write about how I feel and the things that matter to me. I know that a lot of this, especially these past few days, has been very depressing and a bit of a downer, but I really have no one else to say these things to. It helps me tremendously to vent, to put the proverbial pen to paper and get it out of my system. No one has to read it, it's a big internet out there, but this is my little section of it and that's why I write what I write. I really do wish I was in a better state of mind, believe me I do, but the truth of the matter is, I'm not and if this helps, well, that's a good thing.

I've been mindlessly watching TV tonight as my mind raced from one horror story to another. Apart from going to the store to pick up some dog food, I've had absolutely zero human contact today. When that happens, my mind seems to race and one of the things I've been thinking about today is my facial surgery. I've talked before about how disappointed I am in how things turned out. People keep telling me I need to be patient, that it takes a while for results to show up. I get that but as I approach the nine month anniversary of my surgery, it's pretty clear that it was a bust, and an expensive one at that. I suppose it happens from time to time, we just hope that it isn't us that it doesn't happen to us.

The night before my surgery, June 4th, my Mom and I went out to dinner at a nondescript chain restaurant. We were both tired and a bit anxious and it was one of the few places near our hotel that sounded half way decent. As we sat there that night, I tried to present a positive front to my Mom. Inside I was dying and scared out of my pants. I had never had major surgery before and anytime you go under anesthesia, you are taking a risk. I trusted my doctor but accidents do happen. That was a big part of my fear but I was also worried about so many other things.

Earlier in the day, I had posted an entry to my blog in which I thanked Greg for getting me that far in life. It was a very sad moment and my post accurately reflected how I felt that day. I really did think that when I awoke from surgery the next day, that my life would never be the same. I was optimistic that things would turn out well, but I also had this deep fear that maybe nothing really would change, that I would still look as much like a man as I did when I went in. That of course is what happened and now I can't seem to find a way out of this mess.

Anyways, Mom and I did our best that night to stay in high spirits. I was glad that she was there with me and had she not, I never could have gone through with it all. After dinner, we went back to the hotel and tried to talk about anything but the surgery. We watched TV, though I couldn't tell you what we watched, and eventually it was time for bed. The doctor had told me that I could take a Valium to help me sleep and somehow, I didn't have any trouble drifting off and actually got a pretty good nights sleep. One of the few things I remember about that morning is how hungry and thirsty I was. As we made our way to the clinic, I'm pretty sure I didn't say too many things. I was nervous, very nervous, but I tried to act like I wasn't.

The hour before surgery is kind of a blur. They gave me some medicine to sedate me and I remember having a hard time staying awake as the doctor drew lines all over my face. In between fits of sleepiness, I became increasingly angry and started throwing a mini temper tantrum. I was mad that I couldn't keep the gown on as it kept sliding down off my shoulders and wouldn't stay tied in the back. I was cold, confused and angry, not a good combination going into surgery. It got so bad that they told my Mom that she might as well go back to the hotel. I don't remember her leaving and the next thing I remember was being put in bed, my head all bandaged up and my Mom taking good care of me.

That week, two other girls had their surgery with the same doctor. One went the day before me and the other two days after me. I spent a lot of time with them that week and while I was there, I healed much quicker than any of them did. I ventured out into the world, went to a park, out to eat and took lots of walks. I felt pretty good and if truth be told, it was probably one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life. I had someone to take care of my every needs and it just felt comforting to be in that spacious hotel room. The weather was nice, I ate some good food and Mom and I watched movies and played board games.

When I got back home, Mom continued to take care of me as I stayed at her house for another couple of weeks. Things were good then and I was full of hope, hope that I hadn't experienced for a very long time. Things were looking good and both of us really did think that things were going to turn out great. At the end of those two weeks, I finally went home and started taking care of myself. Ever since that day, I've absolutely hated the house I live in. I don't know what changed, but before this surgery, I was proud of myself for having bought a house and loved everything about it.

Today I simply hate everything about it and would give anything in the world to be back in an apartment. I hate a lot of things now, things that I used to like quite well. The surgery changed me alright, just not in the way I thought and ever since that fateful day, I've been a very miserable and angry person. Life just isn't fun anymore and I blame so much of it on that surgery. It will always be the biggest regret of my life, something that I will go to my grave cursing. I want my old life back so much. I want this all to end, to wake up one day soon and realize that none of it happened. I miss my life from before.

The View From Here

I'm having a pretty bad day, one of those where I just have no desire to even get out of bed, much less walk out the door. These seem to happen more often than not, especially on the weekends when I have nothing to do. I just feel like the world is caving in around me. My bills seem to suck more and more of my money out of me, my house is a disaster zone and the weather simply sucks. It's one of those dark and dreary days that are so common around these parts. I don't mind these kind of days in the early part of winter, but come late February you just want it to stop. Spring is still four weeks away but the way this winter is going, it's probably more like six or seven weeks.

Anyways, I have absolutely nothing to do this weekend and when that happens, I just retreat into my own little world, keeping the blinds drawn and myself in bed. If it weren't for the dogs, I probably would not get out of bed at all. Life isn't supposed to be this way. It's supposed to be fun and full of joy. My life is anything but. There are more days than not in which I just wish that it would all come to a merciful end. Of course it never does and I somehow find a way to keep on going. I don't know how much of this has to do with transition and how much is just a sorry and pathetic life, but it certainly doesn't help. Everytime I pass a mirror, I just want to ram my fist into it and smash it to pieces, so repulsed am I by what I see.

I just want some peace in my life and I don't know how to get that. I've tried everything I can think of and yet the tears just keep on coming. I want the pain to stop, the loneliness to end and the sadness to go away. But it never does. It's my constant companion.

As I See It

Growing up, I always felt like I would never get the chance to be true to myself. I just figured that there was no way that I would possibly be able to go through with all of this and accept who I was and who I needed to be. Because of that, I figured out a way to live my life as Greg. It was never easy, far from it, but over time I got very, very good at it. By the time I turned 30, I had resigned myself to the fact that the life I was leading then would be the one that I would always lead. It was other people who had the courage to go out on a limb and take a leap of faith. It was other people who had the self-confidence to make the changes that needed to be made. I was not one of those people, or so I thought.

Eventually the pain just becomes too much to bear and you either get on with living or you get on with dying. I choose to get on with living and do something about this amazing disconnect between how I felt on the inside and how I felt and looked on the outside. That was four years ago and at the time, I had no idea what on Earth to expect. Sure, I read all the books I could find, I went into therapy and I went out and looked for others who were just like me. I suppose the only thing I knew back then was that things were from then on out going to be very difficult. Other than that, I just didn't know what to expect and looking back on it all, I was right to feel that way.

Soon, I began to comprehend just what an enormous task lay before me. As well prepared as I thought I was, nothing truly could have prepared me for all the missteps and successes that awaited. Some people do this transition thing rather quickly, completing the whole process in as little as a year. Others take much longer and many never make it all the way. I was determined to be one of those who made it though I knew it would probably take a bit longer than a year. Initially, the biggest obstacle seemed to be my job, not the actual emotional toll that comes with transition. The job thing was tough, more so than I imagined, but it paled in comparison to the emotional toll that all of this would end up taking on my psyche and well being.

I'm not going to lie, I'm an emotional wreck right now and I have been for quite some time. This transition of mine has been nothing short of a disaster and to tell the truth, I really don't quite know how I've managed to survive this far. Obviously there have been quite a few moments where I thought I was losing my mind and contemplated either going back to being Greg or simply ending it all by jumping off a bridge or something similar. I've tried hard to give this up and somehow find a way to get my old life back, but the truth is, once you make this leap, there really isn't any going back. That my friends is a problem.

I do not want to go back to being Greg, I've tried way too hard to put that all behind me, but I've really reached the point where being Kelly just isn't working. In many ways, I'm much more miserable as Kelly than I ever was as Greg, but every time I go back, I sink even further into depression. Right now, I'm living in a pretty strange world, one that doesn't make much sense to me and one that I really don't like living in. You see, I'm not quite Kelly and I'm not quite Greg, I'm something entirely in between. It all really depends on what kind of mood I'm in and what I'm going to be doing. If I know I'm going to be out in public, away from my safety zones, I go out as Greg. If I'm just going to work or over to a friends, I usually go as Kelly.

The only thing I know right now is that I can't seem to find the courage to walk out the door as Kelly unless it's absolutely necessary. I'm angry, I'm bitter, I'm sad and I'm frustrated. This can't keep happening and sooner or later, something just has to give. One way or the other, I need to finally make up my mind and go this way or that. My self-imposed deadline is Spring Break, the first full week of April. That's a little over a month from now and right now, I have no earthly idea which way I'll go. Whatever decision I make, it's sure to feel like a major disappointment and that's the only thing I'm sure of right now.

Glennzilla Roars

Glenzilla, possibly the best blogger on the planet, has a great post up over at Salon. In short, he rips the Republicans to shreds over the blatant fear mongering put forth in a new ad designed to scare Americans into giving up their civil liberties so that Daddy Bush can keep us all safe from the menacing "Brown People". It really is something to behold and I urge you to head over to Glenn's Unclaimed Territory to watch it in all it's repulsive glory.

For the life of me, I just can't wrap my mind around why some folks seem to think the threat from a few hundred guys living in caves is so ominous. Now I know that the powers that be probably don't believe they are such a great threat, but it's served them well since 9/11 and seeing as how it's the only card they are holding, they will most likely keep playing it till the fat lady sings. Look, I'm not denying that a bunch of pissed off Islamic Terrorist might try to stage another attack, but I hardly see how they are the greatest threat ever to the most powerful nation in the history of the world.

This fear that the terrorist will jump out from under your bed and murder your wife and kids isn't just stupid, it's fucking insane. I can honestly say that not once have I ever given these terrorist a second thought. They don't scare me and they never will. To be afraid of them means that they have won, that's what terrorism is. Never in the history of this nation have we faced a more pathetic and inept enemy than the one we do now. That they have the power to destroy this country is just plain laughable. No, they are not scary but I will tell you what was scary, the 40,000 nuclear warheads the Soviet Union had aimed at us when I was growing up. That was some scary shit. Terrorist living in caves, not so scary.

Obama V. Clinton

Konagod has a great post up about tonight's Democratic Debate in his hometown of Austin and seeing as how he doesn't care if we pilfer from him, I'm going to....



For those who don't follow these things too closely, there has been some recent controversy over what some believe are sexist comments by Obama and racist comments by Hillary.