Quick preface: I thought nanowrimo was this month for a second, so I started typing, thinking I'd do a fictionalized version of myself that came out when her egg cracked instead of waiting 30 years. I was like 3/4ths of the way through the day's word count when I realized I'm off by a month, but writing this was so cathartic that I kept going.

Amber, she thought, would be a good name. The hard part would be getting people to call her that. Or to acknowledge that she was, in fact, a girl.

Amber was moving to Colorado, because the doctor had determined that she was allergic to the entire state of California. Her dad had found a job doing the same things with computers that he always had done, but in Colorado instead, so they moved. A move seemed like a good time for a fresh start, a fresh name, and a fresh gender.

She was scared to tell her parents what was going on, but she was more determined than scared. All she needed to do was to find the right words and the right time. So as they drove through the endless desert, she sat in her seat, staring at the nothing out the back window of the station wagon, and tried to find the words. 'Hey mom and dad, I'm actually a girl and my name is actually Amber.' but that wasn't quite right, there was so much more. And that sounded so defiant, didn't her parents know best when they gave her a boy name and acted like she was a boy? But that wasn't right either, maybe -

Just then the baby woke up and started crying. Mom and Dad stopped their quiet conversation up in front, and Mom called out softly "It's ok Ben, we'll pull over as soon as we get a chance." Right, Amber thought, I have to call him Ben now, because the new baby is on the way, and she'll be the baby, and he'll just be Ben.

But the desert of nothing dragged on and the crying kept escalating, so soon EVERYONE in the car was grumpy. Sally started poking Amber instead of staying on her side of the back seat, and Betsy just kept drawing in her sketchbook, but with one finger in her ear, to try to quiet the noise. Dad finally gave in and pulled over on the side of the freeway, because there hadn't been a sign in five miles.

While Mom took care of Ben, changing his diaper and nursing him, Dad dug out some snacks from somewhere and passed out a handful of GORP to each of the three big kids. "Good ol' raisins and peanuts! Don't just pick the M&Ms out, I don't want to be cleaning all your peanuts out of the car later."

"How much longer will we be in the car?" asked Amber. "Well our hotel is in Salt Lake City, so I think we are more than halfway there." said Dad. "Halfway! Uggggggghhh..." said Amber. She ignored Sally, who had resumed her poking as soon as Dad wasn't looking, and turned to Sugar, her little snow white teddy bear, and pretended to feed him peanuts, which fell directly on the floor of the car. "Can we at least get out and stretch our legs?" asked Sally. "No," answered Dad, "we aren't even at a rest stop, there's just this road and a bunch of prickly plants, no where safe to run. Just... take a nap or read your book or color, we'll be at the hotel before dinner and you can take a swim."

Finally they had made it to the hotel! Hotels were fun because they had a pool, but Amber wasn't as excited about the pool as usual. Her swimsuit was a boys swimsuit, and she felt self-conscious about her chest. Sally's swim suit was bright yellow with red flowers and covered her chest, but Amber's was just dark blue and looked like a pair of shorts. But a pool still sounded good after a long day of sitting still in the car, so she just kinda awkwardly tried to carry her towel in front of her until she got almost to the pool, then dropped off the towel and jumped into the pool in one quick motion, so no one would see. Once she was neck deep in the pool she felt much better about it, so she stayed at that depth and splashed and played with her family and the other kids at the pool.

The drive the next day was much more interesting, the scenery more varied and the mountains loomed. Soon, Amber's dad was driving through tunnels and across bridges and up and down switchbacks, and Amber's mom was trying not to swear at him for driving "too fast" or "too close to the edge". They got out and stretched their legs and the kids got their photograph taken with the big sign that said the Continental Divide, and spit on both sides of the slope, so their spit would end up in both oceans. Amber didn't like getting her photograph taken, because they always looked like some boy instead of how she felt she should look, but she smiled anyway, big and cheesy and forced.

After getting to Denver they drove up to The Rental and all got out. The moving truck was already there, and there were boxes of stuff everywhere. The Rental smelled funny and had weird stained glass windows, and even weeks later, when things had been unpacked, it didn't feel like home. Amber wasn't comfortable, in her skin, or in this house, or with the sights and smells, and she was definitely scared, so she never found time to tell her parents about what was going on. She also was sad, because Sugar's best friend, Oatmeal, a little brown teddy bear, somehow didn't make it to Colorado in the move and was lost forever. Her parents, also, were busy with the new job and putting things in order, and looking for an actual house to move into.

It was always one excuse or another, there was always something going on that kept Amber from speaking up. They moved out of the rental and into a proper home, and then promptly all caught the Chicken Pox. They had met new friends at Church and at Co-op, who took care of them while they recovered, but Amber still felt like no one really knew her, because they called her a boy and didn't use her name, but she still hadn't found time to sit down with her parents and have this very important conversation.

Finally it was her Birthday. She was turning 8 years old today, and her new friends were here, and there was cake and presents... but everything was slightly wrong. The cake had blue icing instead of pink, and had the wrong name on it. She got hotwheels and legos in her presents, when she wanted polly pocket and lego in her presents. When they sang happy birthday, they used a name that fit her body, but not her brain. And all the cards had "birthday boy" instead of "birthday girl." So when she closed her eyes and blew out her candles and made a wish, it was that everyone could see her as she really was.

When she opened her eyes, everything was suddenly right. The cake was pink, the hotwheels were polly pocket, and her big present from her parents was getting her ears pierced. But then she opened her eyes for real, and reality was still good, she was still surrounded by friends and family who love her, but it was all slightly off again. The ice cream was melting and making the cake and the paper bowl both soggy, so she went out in the back yard and played with her friends, pretending to be the puppy while the other girls played house.

A month later and the baby is here! Her name is Gabby and she is a princess. Amber thinks she's so tiny and lovely and she'll love her forever. Grandma flew out from California to take care of the kids while Mom and the baby settle into some kind of routine. Amber likes her other grandma better, because she doesn't make them eat their veggies and gives them extra desert. This grandma says that eating your veggies will "put hair on your chest" but Amber doesn't want that. She is worried that she'll grow up to look like her dad instead of her mom, but doesn't know how to say any of that without offending anyone, and she doesn't offend people, she the good one, the quiet one. Sally is the loud one who offends people.

School starts and Amber has to get up in front of everyone and lie to them, give them a boy's name instead of her own. She was hoping to tell her parents before now, before she had to lie again, but it's so hard to talk about, she doesn't have the vocabulary, and they'll get mad and... she's not even sure how they will respond. She wishes she knew more, like does this happen to everyone or only some people or am I the only girl in the world born into the wrong skin? Can a doctor fix her body with medicine or a preacher fix it with a miracle? Her parents might have answers to these questions, but they get mad about other queer things like this, and I don't want them to get mad at me and stop loving me...

Go to any post on any "relationship advice" community and you'll see people drawing up lines, saying you are the villain or your spouse is the villain. "hit the lawyer, facebook up, delete the gym." Most of the time that isn't helpful, people ask for relationship help because they want help with their relationship, they don't want to end it. Oh sure some people are just looking for a reason to get out of an unhealthy relationship, but why are people so quick to vilify? Divisiveness is not going to solve a relationship problem. I feel like I shouldn't have to start every one of my posts with this kind of disclaimer, but if you look through my post history you'll find me fighting for my wife again and again. She is not the problem, she is part of the solution. My number one goal is to preserve this relationship, fully transitioning comes second to that.

It's not just you all, I see this everywhere. I pointed it out to my wife and now she sees it everywhere. I came out at church and now I'm the villain there, how dare I do this to my wife and kids. Why can't I just "man up" and be what's expected of me?

And when I come out as Christian to my trans friends, my wife is the villain, how dare she hold you back, how dare she not fully embrace her bi nature, insert bi erasure rhetoric here.

Usually I would follow up this kind of caveat with the problem that needs addressed, but in this case, this IS the problem that needs addressed. Constantly having to fight for each other in opposing circles is exhausting, especially when we are asking for help. I don't want to hear "oh your priorities are fucked, transition first then worry about your wife". I'm so tired of asking for help and getting divisiveness. And I don't know what to do.

The two of us sat down with a counselor the other day and we felt seen, at the same time, for the first time. She understood this struggle. I wish she was taking more clients, hopefully the counselor she recommended will be equally excellent. How do we find or make more of these safe spaces, where we can both exist together, without either of us being the villain?

I did it. I came out to everyone that matters. No one has cut me off or thrown me out. The process took about 6 months longer than I thought it would, but we are here, on the other side of that long tunnel. But instead of flying out of the other side, speeding my way towards a full transition, I'm maybe two steps further transitioned than I was six months ago. No momentum.

And oh boy am I tired. Long talks with good friends, debating theology with my pastor, answering questions, calming fears, it's a lot of social energy.

Can I just stop being trans for one bloody moment? I need a breather. But no, that's not an option, the dysphoria is not abated. So onward I press, taking the hard path, the good path, the slow path. I can be a Christian and trans. I can keep my support network and transition. I don't have to lose my wife and kids, we can make this work.

But

it's

so

slow

.

I've been transitioning as slowly as possible for 30 years, but I'm ready to drop my masc and make a mad dash to the other side. I'm ready to throw out the guy clothes, take E, get an orchi, laser my face. I know different people experience womanhood differently, but I feel like I haven't gotten to experience it all, despite leaning hard on that GNC wall for all my masc years. And so I don't ask people to call me Amber, she/her, because I don't feel like I deserve it. Once I'm over there, then I'll ask. Once I malefail. But this mindset is holding me back. Insisting on maintaining all my relationships and support network is holding me back. My wife working her way through her own theology and gender issues is holding me back. And I can't lose those, so I limp along, dragging the shattered remains of my masc alongside me.

I thought for sure that putting myself out there would free me to go be myself, that I would be zooming, but instead I'm still plodding along, just now with extra scrutiny.

Last night I dreamed I was a kid, and instead of hiding and building a masc, I was demanding to be myself. Little dream me was so sure of herself, so ready to fight everyone who would tell her she couldn't be who she really was. I could use her energy right now, and her willingness to fight for herself.

So my wife and I have been trying to work through the practicality of me coming out. She's been having trouble perceiving me as female, which, like, I still have a beard, so I get it. She's bi, but also believes that homosexuality is a sin, so she's been trying to work though what we would look like. I've been trying to break apart the rigid gender roles a bit, and told her last night that I don't mind our kids calling me "dad" even if I go full fem, I have no problem with she/her/dad. Like, I'm the sperm donor, not the one who carried them for nine months. She thought that was great and asked about husband, because she really would rather have a husband than a wife. I told her that I'd really prefer wife, as husband is rather ick for me, so we are still working on that point.

Long preamble, sorry, but this morning as we were telling each other about our dreams last night and our visions for the future, she said "I envision myself in the future with my husband, and she's beautiful"

I think that's the first time I've been gendered correctly by my wife, and it feels so good. I think we are going to make it. I'm going to have my kayak and heat it too. I'll be able to transition without losing those closest to me. My vision of the future has never looked so bright, growing into old ladies together and showing people with our lives that "Queer Christians" is not an oxymoron.

I've been closeted for like 30 years. How tf do I let it out? I'm ready to come out, tell people, finally go live my life, but all I know is the mask. Who is this scared little girl that's hiding in here? How do I go be myself when I don't know who that is? I feel naked and exposed without my masc.

Go experiment? I'm still in that "man in a dress" stage, not sure if I'm going to be able to get HRT, so even looking at myself in the mirror is horrible. I'm trying to lose weight and I'm doing the laser hair removal thing, and those feel great, but

I feel like I missed my life, missed learning how to girl, and now I'm expected to woman? Can I please get some girlhood real quick so I can figure out how to woman? I want to go through the emo phase and the punk phase and maybe dabble in goth, I want to be cringe, I want to have a sleepover with the girls and do each other's hair and makeup so we can practice.

There's so many things that are gendered. I wore my belt "backward"s today, because I was always taught the "correct" boys way to do it. I feel like I'm drowning in the shallow end of the gender pool.

If I'm going to do makeup I'm going to have to look at myself in the mirror. If I'm going to do my hair I'm going to have to do something about the balding. If I'm going to change my wardrobe, do I do that now or wait until I lose these 10 kilos?

I pulled the cork and... I guess I thought I was gonna get a genie wish and wake up the next day as a girl. Instead I have to transition, and probably without any HRT. I guess this is the hard part.

Sorry for the ramble, even verbalizing these thoughts, this sentence, is hard. I'm so practiced at keeping it all in that even though it's happening, I don't know how to let it all out.