People have used the word courage when describing me, yet I was not doing anything that I did not feel I needed to do. You put up with it; take it; keep doing what you are doing until one day it has to end and you can't stand to do what you are doing any more.

I think it takes a great deal of courage for anyone to get through life.

When I came out at 5, it was quickly made clear to me that to survive, I would have to go back in to live. Some of us get almost all the way through life knowing that something is wrong; that they are not being real; and when they start being who they are... Well, it's chalked up to selfishness, sin in your life, or worse.

I didn't feel brave when I put on my sister's skirt and came to join the family. I just wanted to be like her. The 39 years I was married to a Woman more troubled than I was, didn't make me feel brave. We were like waifs in a hurricane and we clung together; rescued one another not because we were brave, but because we wanted to survive.

We raised three children together, not because of courage but because they got in our hearts; touched something barely alive in there. We were trying hard to survive, just like they were. There was no courage, we just wanted to live. I wanted them to be happier than I was. One of our children was one of purpose. She surely would not have survived had we not adopted her. I was very frightened when we made the decision to do it. Mercifully, the day that I held her in my arms and looked into those two olive eyes, I was hopelessly lost to her. There was no courage; only love.

I came out the second time by accident. I had grown increasingly depressed when the children grew older and I could see they were going to be gone. Through a series of painful but unavoidable events my circle around the black hole called death grew smaller and threatened to end. The events around 9/11 were traumatic for us all and my working for the government and seeing what some power hungry creeps were doing made it worse. Soon I was heavily sedated because of the stress. My child with Olive eyes had her heart captured by a boy and soon she was gone. I had a serious fall at work and became disabled. My mate, perhaps growing weary of my presence in the house began to work more and more. A few days before Christmas, in constant pain, and too heavily sedated to think clearly, I decided that I had flirted with the drain long enough.

Inexplicably I found myself taken to the hospital by a cop, a friend of mine, "Gwen, this is hard for me. Please don't give me a hard time." A week later, I came home from the hospital. I had totally been outed by the medical staff by a series of events that the new Hipaa rules failed to prevent. It was two days before Christmas.

Christmas is still extremely difficult. Each year gets worse.

4 years later, I am post op by a year. The family I loved so much is entirely gone. The job is gone, I could make this a real downer right now... In my opinion, transitioning should be the last posible choice a person like me should make. It needs to be death or transitioning.

Is life as a twoman courageous? It can certainly be unimaginably hard. It is imposible for me to stand on this side of the gap and look back. Would I be happy? Would I be alive if I had not transitioned?

Do you have loved ones around you. I personally never do a sudden transition again, given the choice. I was not this time. Far wiser would be family counseling with a person familiar with T matters. Of course, all counselors are human and have an axe to grind. I started out, years before my transition with Christian counselors. They gave me a huge resevior of guilt. Later using secular counselors through Kaiser, it seemed better; more professional.

I will say that there are counselors and their circle of friends out there who are nothing more than circling sharks seeking to devour you. They want to rush you right into transition so they can make money off you.

I would say the surest mark of courage is in simply staying alive and doing the best you can.

Much Love

Gwen