Blood, Fire and Spirit. (Part 19)

 

Tuesday 11th August 2020

I'm going to take you back in time a couple of years for this one taking you back to part way through 2018. I had just been offered a  new position at a service in Pakenham which I had visited on a couple of occasions already as relief staff. The center was amazing and to be honest, it would have to be to leave the service that I had already been working for the last few months where I had made quite a name for myself  as an Educational Leader and fitted in well with all the amazing educators that I was working with. 

Pakenham had that wow factor, it had a beautiful front foyer and welcoming staff that made you feel comfortable straight away. The yards were amazing, especially the Kinder Yard and I was just awestruck with the way the management team related to the Educators there. It was something that i had missed over the previous last year. When I was offered the position, I jumped at it and within a week of being there was called into the back office. I sat down with the Director and her second and was asked how I felt about the service. I told nervously them (no one enjoys being called into an office anywhere as it doesn't always end in good news and I had had my share of bad news in that previous year) that I was feeling really good about the move and felt like I was getting along with everyone really well. The Director seemed happy with that reply and went on to say that she had heard nothing but great things from all the educators and families that she had spoken to. She then went on to offer me a role as Room Leader for her Big 2s room. I hadn't room lead a two year old room before and was not sure how my style of teaching would relate to this age group but I was up for the challenge. My reply to her was pretty typical of me, "Let me think about that for a moment...Ah, yes". 

So, it was decided, I spent the next week doing handover with the previous Room Leader and met my two amazing assistants. One thing that I can always say is that I have been very lucky in my life to have some awesome assistants. Jess and Elvie were two of the finest. We clicked together so well and turned the whole room around. Quite literally, we redesigned the room, redesigned the focus in the room and concentrated on doing lots of mini projects focusing on each Childs interest.  Before long we had the children talking about subject matter that they hadn't even thought of before but taking it home and telling their parents. I'll never forget the conversation that I had with a mum during that time all excited about something she witnessed her son doing over that weekend. She told me that she found her son drawing a picture of a man, she decided to ask who the man was. The child thought for a moment and replied "It's Neil Armstrong", bewiled she asked, "Who's Neil Armstrong"? Her almost 3 year old looked up and said "He was the first man on the moon". The Mum told me that she was so surprised that he knew this and had to Google to see if he was right. 

It was during this time I had noticed one of the parents who brought her child in always came in wearing a Salvation Army top. Having been a Salvo many years before, I wasn't sure whether to approach her or not feeling anxious because of being transgender. Sounds stupid now looking back, but she almost scared me because I was worried how she would react if I ever had her child in my care. I didn't know if she was an officer or someone who worked in one of the Thrift Shops, I just knew she was a Salvo. 

As time progressed, towards the end of the 2018, we started transitioning children to get them used to their new rooms. As luck would have it, one of the children was the child of the Salvo lady that I was more or less avoiding conversation with. This child was an absolute ball of energy and a joy to have visiting in my room over the course of the transition period. One of the days, I noticed her sitting in a big wooden box that I had in the room. The children would usually build it into a cubby house or something similar, but here was this child doing something totally different. I approached the child and asked her what she was doing. Firstly, I should explain that she was sitting in this box with a block in her hand moving it from left to right and making some odd noise. The child looked at me and said these immortal words, "I'm driving to Church, do you want to come with me?" 

That was definitely an OMG moment, it was like she knew that I was having problems with communicating with her Mum while at the same time knowing something that I was desperately missing. If you have read previous parts to my journey, you would now how much the Salvation Army has meant in my life and here was this child inviting to drive me there. I didn't get to tell mum that night and wasn't sure how to approach her about it but knew that she had to know. Its a tradition with most centers that they have their end of year break up party for the kids and families. I noticed Mum was there and decided that now was the time to tell her what I saw. 

Mum looked at me, smiled and said, you need to come. I told her about my  reservations and that I didn't want to make any of the congregation feel uncomfortable  with my presence. She explained to me that Pakenham Corp has some very progressive thinking Officers and that they would love to have me there. Sure enough, the next time I saw her at the center she told me that she had spoken to her officers about me and they reiterated her feelings saying that they want me there. I got some details from her and told her I would thing about it. 

One Sunday morning she messaged me and told me that she had had a dream that night that God had told her that she needed to tell me that I had to be there today. I'm like really, why today especially? She told me she didn't know but she had past on the message and done her part, the rest was up to me. I asked her what time the service started and she replied that it started at 10am. I'm like, it's 8:30am now and I'm still in bed. 

Somehow, in an hour and a half, I managed to jump in the shower, get dressed and drive the 30min drive to Pakenham to arrive a couple of minutes after 10am. I walked into that hall and although I can't quite explain it but I felt home straight away. The Mum came up to me and asked me to sit with her and I did. I remember standing up singing the songs that were being projected on the screen and thinking this feels right. Every so often, one of the lines in the song were being amplified at me from the mum with an occasional wink to say, that's you. 

During the service, they had a commitment ceremony  which is like the Salvation Army version of a baptism. The family that was dedicating their baby was from Nigeria, I at that time had just met a Nigerian girl online called Lara. I'm like, what are the chances that in the middle of Pakenham, on the day I attend church for the first time in years a Nigerian child is being dedicated. The sermon began and it was all about Inclusion and Inclusive practice partially in relation to the church and how in the past they have ignored certain people and that time had passed. One of the songs we sung after the sermon and to end off the meeting was from one of my favorite Christian artists, Michael W Smith. That was it for me, if I needed any other signs that I was meant to be there I would have just been trying to avoid the unavoidable. 

After the service, I was introduced to both the officers and straight away, I knew what the Mum was tying to tell me. They were both so down to earth and full of compassion. The rest of the congregation introduced themselves to me one by one over a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits and the feeling of finally being home again hit me. Over the following weeks I became a regular fixture around the Corp and one Sunday, I decided to give my testimony about how I had been searching, wanting and hoping to get back to church but was worried about how I would be received as a result. I went on to say that from the moment I walked into Pakenham Corp, I felt immediately at ease and that was a testament in itself to the congregation that had built that and I thanked them for allowing me to be with them. 

I was surprised at the end of it when some of the older Salvos came over to me after the service and told me that I'd really touched a place in their hearts and began thanking me. From that point on, Pakenham was my home and although I was working in Pakenham and traveling 30mins each day for work, I was more than happy to do the same on a Sunday to be with my Salvo family. 

During this time I have made some amazing connections that I know will last a life time and some unfortunately ran out when my usefulness ran out. Some lessons are very hard to learn at times and although I was getting warning signs from friends around me along the way I kept giving them the benefit of the doubt until I saw it with my own eyes what was happening. I'm not going into anymore detail than that because sadly, those feelings are still pretty raw and to be honest, I'm left feeling foolish because I thought I was helping when in actual fact I was only enabling the bad decisions that this person was making.  

Over the course of 2019 I was becoming more and more imbedded in the Army and even at one point considered going back into uniform. I wasn't sure exactly how that was going to work but it was a real possibility at the time. Pretty soon, it was my favorite time of year roll around. Red Shield Appeal Sunday. Something I always looked forward to. In the past I door knocked, played chicken on the road at the traffic lights dodging cars and stood in shopping centers beside the kettle. Every year after the appeal we would go back to the Corp and the ladies there would feed us while some would sit at tables and count the donations coming in. It was a real feeling of community and I actually missed being apart of that. Red Shield 2019 was very different to those days, no more door knocking, little traffic light work due to restrictions which left Shopping centers and Bunnings and the Red Shield Sunday became a two week appeal. 

That first day I volunteered for Bunnings, let me tell you, I have a new found respect for the door greeters at Bunnings after that because nothing is colder than sitting in the wind tunnel they call the front doors at Bunnings. It was so freaking cold that no amount of clothing was going to warm me up. The following week I volunteered for the shopping center and loved every minute of it. As I was working in Pakenham, I knew a lot of the families walking past and it was a change to see them in a different light. Of course the children would do the usual double take when they look at you and try and figure out where they know you because your not in the usual uniform. 

Around May 2019 I had fallen into another slump thanks to my depression. I fell into a complete hole and struggled to climb out of it. To me, everything that I had worked so hard for over the years was being threatened again. I was becoming consumed by the black hole that left me feeling what's the point of going on. It was the Salvos that help save me from that. My officer rang me up one day after the Sunday service in which I hadn't attended. He asked if I was ok, I told him I was struggling to function. Later that day, he and his wife rolled up on my doorstep with donuts looking for coffee and to sit with me for a while, I told them what was happening and they both stuck by me through one of the darkest moments in my career. 

It was around this time that I was recording an interview with the amazing Dr Ruby Red Scarlet for her upcoming online course, "My Friend Has Two Mums: Gender and Sexuality in Early Childhood". Incidentally, this amazing course featuring me is happening again on the 1st September 2020. I will leave a link to the Multiverse site on the Inclusive Educator Facebook page. I remember during the interview being filled with sadness about the predicament I was in and that projected in the interview as being somewhat negative in certain aspects. After the interview Red ask me what was happening and I explained to her. She gave me some amazing advice as you would expect and from that point began crawling back out of the hole. We decided to re-record the interview and I'm so glad we did because the second version was amazing an exactly the message I wanted to get across in the first place. 

Towards the end of 2019, I met a girl who I liked very much. I decided to spend my weekends getting to know her better as weekends were our only time to catch up as she lived in the city. I always intended to go back to the Salvos, they helped me through some tough time but at the time, I had to give my all to my new relationship. The new year rolled around, Covid broke out, the relationship broke down  and before long, restrictions became the new normal. I still keep in contact with my church family but not seeing them every week to catch up and share that experience has been hard.

 I was never a smash you over the head with my beliefs especially my religious ones.  I believe that is up to the individual, me forcing people to go to church is only going to make them rebel more. I have many friends now, and yes, some of them happen to be atheist's and one in particular is probably  reading this now. I don't question her beliefs as she doesn't directly question mine. Some of her posts though I must admit make me squirm but then I think she's entitled to her opinion as I am entitled to mine and I just scroll past. 

Hopefully by Christmas 2020, we can all be together again but sadly I doubt it given the current Covid climate. Until we all do met again in that very precious, newly repainted.......yet again,  church, I want to just say to all at Pakenham Corp, thank you so much for making me feel so welcome over the past couple of years and knowing that I will always have a home among you. Thank you also to the little girl who offered to drive me to church. Who knows, with one more lifestyle change, that uniform could still become a reality.

Sharon Priestley

I don't usually do this but I would like to dedicate this blog to two very special girls, Zoe for offering me a lift and to Jasmine who inspired me to write again. Thank You both. 

It"s Always Been A Matter Of Trust.......(Part 14)

Saturday 29th December 2018

I guess you could say I have been taking a break over the last few months so I could concentrate on my day job. I have also been working on a few new ideas for posts that will be coming up over the coming weeks and months so rest assured this journey is far from over. To every that continues to send me messages of support, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart and hope that you will continue to enjoy these posts. To the people who have just discovered these, welcome aboard this wild ride that is my life. Please feel free to go back and checkout some of my earlier posts that you will find on my home blog page or by accessing them through my Facebook home page for the Inclusive Educator. 

Today I wanted to take you back when I was a child and take you through some events that have shaped my life into the person I am today. Please understand this may not be easy to read some of this due to some of the content involved and a some of it I havn't had the courage to speak about before to many if any people. 

I have always had an issue in my life with trust. Sometimes I trust people to easy and get hurt quite a bit as a result. Males I have also struggled to trust. I have tried in the past to trust them, but more often than not, they betray that trust. I'm not saying all males are like this because it's simply not true. Its just something I personally have a problem with because of past experience. In my life now, I have really only one male friend and he only became that way because he is married to one of my best friends. He is the reason that I still have faith in males as a species. He is an amazing husband to my friend and is a loving and supportive Dad to his children and has excepted me into his family "Village" with a huge amount of trust associated with that. 

Sadly, that wasn't always to be the case along my journey. Heading back to school, I always found it hard trying to relate to the boys in my class. As I grew up in the country, most of them all had farming backgrounds or were great at sports whether it be athletics, football or basketball. They mostly talked about cars, farm machinery or sport. None of which interested me. As I have previously mentioned in earlier blogs, I know nothing about cars and I have no sporting ability what so ever. Sure, I tried basketball and loved it but I was more out there to force the fouls. Most games I would just get fouled off and spend the remainder of the game on the bench. I was involved in Little Athletics and never one a race, best I ever achieved was I came second last in a race and that was because the guy I was competing against had an artificial leg after he lost part of it inside a combine harvester. He was affectionately known as Plug for this reason I guess. We were doing a 400 hundred meter run and coming down the last 100 meters Plugs leg came loose from its bindings and fell off. All Plug could do was hop down towards the finishing line and it was during this time I passed him along the straight. You would have thought I had actually won the race I was that excited. 

I was once asked back in primary school, what did I want to be when I grew up. I thought for a while and came up with these three answers. I want to be a cook, an VFL Footballer or a truck driver. Two of these things had no chance of ever coming into fruition but I didn't want to sound like I was to much of a girl around all the testosterone that was around even in primary school. In reality, boys interests didn't interest me so it was more of a defence mechanism to try and not standout to much. At this stage in my life, I had pretty much put it all together in figuring out who I was. 

I was a Cub Scout when I was younger also. Along with many of the children in my class. I actually enjoyed putting on the uniform and heading off every Wednesday night (for memory) to participate in learning bush skills and helping the community. Bob a Job time was a personal favourite as I got to go out and do things to help others and get a donation for doing it. During this time it was announced that we would be having a weekend away to some place near by where we will be camping and doing some rock climbing and abseiling. This sounded like a great adventure to me although I had no idea what abseiling was but I was willing to give it a go. 

Who in their right mind, jumps off a cliff face backwards tied to a flimsy piece of rope. Oh my goodness, was I in for a rude shock. I remember standing on that rock face scared out of my shoes. I'm not sure how I completed the jump, but somehow I did and actually loved it. That night we were all in our tents. I was sitting there very proud that I had actually found the courage to do this thing when two guys from the neighbouring tent asked me if I wanted to come over to their tent for a bit. I thought, might as well because I was by myself in my tent so I headed over to their tent. I had known these two guys for quite a while now, we had attended the same school since we began our schooling life so it was a fair enough assumption that I would be ok. Sadly I was wrong, upon entering the tent, one of them tried to pull down my pants and sexually assault me while the other one sat in front laughing at me. 

I was so scared, I was trapped in a situation that I didn't even know was possible. I was extremely naive back then and had little to no knowledge of what was happening other than I knew it wasn't right. To give you an idea of exactly how naive I was back then, I actually didn't even realise that boys and girls had different body parts. Apart from girls having breasts, I didn't know there was even a difference. I just knew I preferred being around girls to guys. I remember asking my mother once "When a baby is born, how do they tell if its a boy or girl?" I was quite intrigued about it and wanted to know how this was achieved. My Mother gave me a look like Seriously followed up closely by "Go ask your Father". Can't remember if I asked him in the end, I think the look of disbelief kind of put me off the idea. 

That night I went back to my tent and lay there in my sleeping bag wondering what had happened. I was upset for allowing myself to trust these two guys who had done some pretty ordinary things in the past but I thought or hoped that they had moved on a bit. I decided never to tell anyone because I wasn't even sure what to say. So it was decided, I didn't tell the Cub leaders or my parents or anyone else. I have blocked it out till now. It was all about self preservation for me at the time, I just figured that no one would believe me anyway. 

That was probably where my distrust for males began. After that time it was just one thing after another. I had one child decided that it would be fun to humiliate me further in front of a group of friends. He decided that it would be fun to pee on me, so, without warning. He pulled it out and started peeing on my leg. This happened at my own house. Thankfully my Dad found out about this one and dealt with the situation. Again I was like confused wondering why me. 

A few years later after being tormented about my scar on my mouth from when I was born and the children at school coming up with their own version of events why it was split. Apparently I was giving oral sex to my Father and he split my mouth. I wasn't even sure what oral sex was then but leave it to the kids at my school to tell me exactly what it was. I was so disgusted and ended up telling my Aunt at first who was staying with us and then went on to tell my Dad. 

It was about this time that I discovered that the guy had been calling Dad all my life wasn't actually my Father. Apparently my biological Father dropped me off with my Mum at my Grandparents place claiming that no son of his could turn out like I was not long after bringing me home from the hospital. It turns out I had a few complications during birth including a Hair Lip which is why to this day I still bare the scare of my birth. He went onto imply that my Mother must of been with someone else to create me. With the help of my newly discovered Step-Dad, we tried to track him down to see if he was willing to see me but he refused. 

Although my relationship with my Step-Dad wasn't always smooth sailing, I had a lot of respect for him for what he has done for me over the years. He took me to countless specialist trips to Melbourne to try and help me with numerous different medical conditions that appeared over the years. The mere fact that we moved to the county in the first place was primarily so I could have a better chance at life because I had breathing issues in Melbourne. In short, he was and is the only person that I have called Dad and although I don't say it often enough, I love and respect everything he has done for me. 

On a side note, we achieved a huge milestone together on Christmas Day. My Dad after struggling to get his head around it for the last couple of years called me Sharon for the first time ever. This was a huge step because for 46 years years he has always known me as Darren (arghhhh, still hate that name) but I'm proud to say, he is getting there. It made my day so thank you Dad. It meant more than you will ever realise. 

Moving through on through school, I continued to go under the radar but at the same time I desperately craved friendships with anyone. I started to act out in class, sort of become the class joker just to get laughs but more often than not it would just wind up with me in a world of trouble. One class I never messed around in was Home Economics. My passion for cooking hadn't died and it was one of the only things in my life that brought me joy. My teacher at the time was Mrs Oldfield. She was amazing and truly an inspiration for me. She was kind with her time and always supportive and helpful. She was the kind of teacher that I hope I am today with my children. 

Eventually, it was time to move back to Melbourne as work was drying up in the country. People were leaving, businesses were closing and moving back to Melbourne was the only option for some. My respiratory system was a lot stronger now so it was all systems go. I was initially excited about heading to Melbourne. A fresh start for me at a new school would hopefully allow me to reinvent myself. Sadly that wasn't to be. The same old stuff that was happening at my old school was beginning to happen all over again. I was different and everyone sensed that and once again I became the scapegoat for anyone who felt like paying out on me. 

I found refuge once again with the girls in my class and they were supportive. The guys all had something to prove to one another. To the guys you fell under one of the following categories. You were either Gay, a Virgin, a nerd or one of them. I got classified as a Virgin. Didn't even know what that was back then but because I wore a white skivvy, that was my category. I didn't know whether to be offended or honoured. The truth is, I was but I didn't know it at the time. 

I ended up leaving school at the first opportunity I had. I went to work in a scrap metal yard which was horrific. It was my first job and it was a means to an end to get me out of the schooling system. From there I went to work for Coles as a trolley pusher. Hated that also. My real passion remained with cooking. By this stage I had collected so many cook books and begin to write my own recipes that I needed to do something to make it happened. 

I ended up getting a job at the Western Port Hotel in Hastings as a kitchen hand on the weekends. Saturday nights I would wash a mountain of dishes but on Sunday, I would go back into the kitchen and get to do some prep work with the Chefs. I loved this so much and it gave me some great experience but sadly, I didn't have a licence at the time and had to rely on my Dad to get me there but that wasn't always feasible so I left.

I ended up getting work in a restaurant in my home town as a kitchen hand. I was so excited to be working in a proper restaurant that specialised in French cuisine. To me I had made it finally. This was where my career was going to take off. Starting at the bottom I was going to learn everything I could, get my apprenticeship and become a Chef. The first Monday night I worked was very quite. Hardly anyone in the restaurant so it was a good opportunity to sample some food. First up was the garlic snails otherwise known as Escargot. I discovered then and there all about the concept of mind over matter. I put the snail in my mouth and thought this is actually quite good then my mind lost its control and thought about how when it rains, the snails come up out of the garden and sit on the footpaths and if you're not careful, pretty soon you will hear the crunching of shells under foot. It was about then during the thought process that I had to spit it out and dry desperately not to gag. I apologised to the Head Chef and he laughed it off much to my relief. A little later in the night, it had gone totally dead and we were the only two left in the kitchen. 

It was during this time that the Head Chef asked if I was with anyone. I wasn't at the time and I said no. He asked me if I was interested in anyone. I replied "Only Maddona". The truth is I loved Maddona so much. I so wanted to be her. She was everything I wish I could have been back then. Sexy, loved and wanted. 

The Chef seemed happy with this revaluation so I went onto tell him about the limited addition of Playboy that I had with Madonna in it. Now, have to explain something here. Back then, any poster, book or item of clothing that mentioned Madonna, I wanted. I even  knew people going to the Melbourne show and asked them if they would bring me back two Maddona showbags. I had pictures of her all over my walls and room. I had her albums and videos, I even took the day off one day just so I could head into Melbourne to be one of the first to see Desperately seeking Susan, Maddona's first ever movie. I was absolutely in love with her. It seemed a perfectly thing to have a copy of that edition of Playboy to add to the Maddona memorabilia. 

The Chef asked if he could see it. I told him yes and he said while its quite, do you want to get it knowing that i lived nearby. I said sure, so I set off on my bike to collect the much talked about copy of Playboy.  Upon my arrival back at the restaurant, he had a quick flick through it and placed it on the bench. He asked me to point out which were my favourite shots of her. I turned and opened up the pages to where Maddona appeared and the Chef came up behind me, took down my pants and proceeded to sexually assault me there in the kitchen of a deserted restaurant. Once again, I was scared and not knowing what to do. Had I brought this on myself by grabbing the magazine or did he just prefer young children. I wasn't even 18. Although their was no penetration, it still made me feel sick having him rub himself up against me. I was sad and confused. My dream job had turned into a nightmare. 

After he had finished he told me that he was going away for the weekend and wanted me to come along. I was worried what this would involved but also scared if I didn't go that I would loose my job and this was already my fourth since leaving school so I didn't want to go home and say that I'd lost another job. I told him that I would ask my Parents if I could go. I didn't know what else to say. As it turned out, I asked permission to go and quite rightfully they said no. Probably the first time in my life that I was happy to have a no. I went back the next day and told him i wasn't allowed to go and within the week I no longer had a job working in the hospitality field. 

I told myself there and then that I would never go back to working in kitchens again. I could never allow myself to fall into a situation like this again and leave myself open and vulnerable. It also fuelled my distrust in males. Didn't want to have to deal with another one again. I tried telling someone about this story once and it was met with a response of "Oh", like i was only telling them for shock purposes. No one makes this stuff up, its real and it happens to women all the time. Some guys think they have the right to take advantage of someone they see as weaker than them. No one has a right to treat another human being in this way. I am a strong advocate for saying no to any form of violence against women. Be it verbal, physical or emotional. I have been through all of it myself in my life and I'm willing to take a stand and tell guys that they need to do a better job. 

I started off by saying that this will not be an easy one to read and it shouldn't be given the content. We should feel very uncomfortable about Sexually assault and find a way to show the perpetrators of this that their few moments of joy can ruin someone's life and no one has that right to hold that power over you.

Sharon

The Aftermath of Part 11...............(Part 12)

Sunday 12th August 2018

Its been 19 days since my last blog so I thought it was time to sit back down with a big cup of coffee and set to work on another piece. I would like to say the last 19 days have been amazing, but the simple truth is that I have been involved in yet another personal fight with depression. Since my last post, I feel into the black hole once more and for a while their struggled to continue with the day to day. Sure, I still got up each day and did all the things that I needed to do to keep a roof over my head with a big smile on my face each day, but the reality was that I was hurting inside and only a selected few really knew the full extent of the pain that I was working through. 

I have spoken about my depression in these blogs before so I don't want to delve into that to much here this time round. What I will say is that depression is in no way discriminate of who it attacks or where it attacks. Most of the time, there is no valid reason for the way I'm feeling. Most of the time you won't even know that I'm suffering because I like many other suffers have found ways to hide it and continue on until the cracks begin to appear and forces you to face up to what you have been hiding from those around you. 

By Tuesday last week, my cracks started to show and it was becoming more and more obvious that something wasn't quite right with me so I faced it head on. The level of understanding, empathy and respect I got from talking about what I was going through is still something I find hard to deal with at times because for most of my life, I haven't had that. I was always just putting it on or looking for attention in the eyes of the ones who where meant to be supporting me. So to have some empathy given to me when I was at my lowest point made me very emotional. I found myself not being able to have conversations without tears welling in my eyes. Now this is not a knew thing for me, I have always been an emotional being and wear my heart on my sleeve. I guess its just its been even more intense over the last 19 days. 

The other thing I can say about this times journey down the black hole is that I know what caused it this time round. Most of the time, I can't say that but this time was different. Those who read my last blog (if you haven't as yet, I suggest you go back and read it as nothing I write from this point will make sense from here on in) will hopefully understand that I put every last bit of emotion in my body into that piece. I wanted it to be special to honour the strength and the sheer admiration I had for this special girl who I called Lisa. Lisa went through a lot, and put up with so much as I dealt with what I was feeling for her. The simple truth is that in the end, I couldn't stop loving her. Lisa became like my half girlfriend, she was the one that gave me reason to move forward each day when everything else seem lost. I didn't matter that she didn't feel the same way about me in the end because I loved her enough for the both of us. Every single beautifully worded song I heard reminded me of her and every place I went I could only think how much this place would be better if Lisa was here sharing this with me. 

When I saw her, I played it cool like I was fine which enabled us to remain friends without it getting all awkward again, but the truth was each time we greeted each other with a hug, my world stood still and I didn't want to let her go. Everything just seemed right when she was in my arms. So you see, it was important that I tried to portray all of those feelings and emotions into those words I wrote in that last blog. I had been in contact with Lisa over the days leading up to the blog to firstly gain her permission as I felt that she at least had the right to know that I was going to be writing about a time that not only affected me but her. I also wanted to let her know because I wanted her to be alright with it, I respect her feelings and opinions obviously because I still held very strong feelings for her. The Blog itself, was more or less finished on the Monday night with the exception of a few bits to tidy up. Lisa gave me the go ahead to publish on the Tuesday and I received notice of that during my lunch break. That day after work, I jumped into my car to begin the drive home but before I did I checked my phone for any messages. There was a notification  on my phone to say that Lisa had posted something knew to Instagram. I decided to look at what it was and all of a sudden it was like someone blew out my candle light out. 

The thing that I had been dreading the most, actually happened. Lisa had met someone. I knew in that instant that everything I held so dear to me had gone. It forced me to wake up to the fact that I always knew but tried to ignore that it was never going to be more than friends. I guess I just believed in if you wanted something bad enough and wished for it hard enough, the laws of attraction would finally prevail. I had heard that others had done it and it worked, so I was willing to give it a go. 

I got home that night and finished off the piece by saying that I wished her all the best in her new adventure. I meant it, Lisa deserves all the happiness in the world and I would never begrudge  her that. The only thing that I wish for out of all this is her happiness. So, on the day I found out that she was starting a new relationship, I posted. Lisa did read it and told me that it was exactly what she expected it would be. She approved. 

The following days were a mixture of just trying to put the whole thing out of my mind while I did my best to carry on forward. I was driving to work one morning listening to Jason Mraz's song, "If it Kills me". One of my favourite Lisa songs. All of a sudden, I was swept over with emotion and couldn't stop crying. Driving to work at 6am in the dark was hard enough but add a constant stream of tears into the equation and it made it near on impossible to drive. Worst still, I was driving through an area where they were doing roadworks so I couldn't even pull over to the side of the road until my moment had passed. 

I knew I was in trouble emotionally so I decided to talk to one of my best friends. I visited her on Thursday night as I do every Thursday night and straight away she knew something was wrong with me. I have only known Tracey since November 2017. She is yet another ex-parent friend of mine and over the course of this last year has become one of my best friends. She's the kind of friend that I always wanted to have, she's strong, determined and in her own words, "Fiercely loyal". At times I question our friendship because I feel at times that its such an unlikely paring. I mean to say, Tracey is like the cool kid, the popular girl in school and I'm the nerdy one that never gets noticed, but for some reason we just click. She's the kind of girl that when we talk, we can talk to each other about random stuff all night and just laugh, then more often than not, realise that it's 3am and another day is dawning. 

Tracey calls me her Kindred Spirit, I never really knew what that meant until now. Tracey could tell that something was wrong with me and it didn't take me long to fill her in. I had spoken to her before about Lisa so she was well versed in my feelings for her. I have actually told her more stuff than I tell most others about myself so telling her this information was very easy in the end. I kept saying to her, I don't get why I'm feeling like this. She was never mine to begin with so why do I hurt so bad? Tracey was like, it's simple, you have every right to feel like this because you had real feelings for Lisa so your allowed to feel hurt. 

She was absolutely right of course, I did have real feelings for Lisa and I guess a grieving period for what I was feeling was understandable. As the time wore on over the coming days I tried to keep pretty much to myself. I cancelled Tutoring jobs because I didn't feel effective in what I was doing and things were beginning to wear me down. My only focus, was making sure my day time job was ticking by smoothly, which thankfully was. By the Friday of the following week I was feeling like rubbish. I had caught some bug which made me feel even worse and I had plans to catch up with a mutual friend of Lisa's. Lets just say, It wasn't my finest moment. I was in a bad way, coughing, spluttering aching all over and by Friday night, my patience had pretty much up and left me. So much so during a conversation with my friend, I got so frustrated with her that I actually did something that I never do, I swore at her. I instantly felt like crap and the rest of the night kind of went down hill from there. The sad part is, that I still don't remember if I even apologised to her for it. That person in my car that night was someone who left along time ago, that angry, frustrated person was not who I am anymore and if by chance you are reading this "N", I'm sorry I lost it with you, please accept my rather unorthodox public apology. 

The following day Saturday, I spent the whole day in bed trying to get rid of my bug. By Sunday, I was feeling much better and knowing that my girls were coming over that night gave me the extra motivation I needed to pick up and start moving forward again. By about Wednesday, Thursday this past week, I felt the need to write again so I knew I was coming back. Its always a good sign when I feel the urge to write. That plus I was getting messages from loyal readers who were waiting patiently for the next instalment of this journey. 

This Blog was meant to be about friendships today, as usual it has taken on a life of its own and gone off on another tangent. I am so very blessed to have some amazing friends in my life that support me in times such as these who know when to say at times the smallest things that help get me through. Without these words of comfort and encouragement, I may have given up long ago. The world is constantly changing and evolving and friends that were yours one day, may not be the next day. For every friend who has ever supported me you will never be forgotten. 

What Doe's an Endocrinologist Do Anyway?........(Part 9)

Sunday 8th July 2018

Its been a couple of weeks since I sat at the computer and wrote another chapter in my journey. In my last piece, I had just moved away from my wife after being with her for the last 20 years of my life. It was a time filled with a mixture of excitement and if I'm to be totally honest with myself and my readers, a time of sadness. Obviously I was excited because I had finally received acceptance from those who I thought I'd never receive it from. Having it drummed into my head for so many years that I would be considered a freak and no one would accept me was actually a shock to my system. I also felt sadness during this time as I never expected this move to be a permanent solution to my marriage breakdown. I just kind of figured that maybe Maria would see that I was serious about having to be who I needed to be and that it wasn't just a passing phase. 

The plan was just to move into my little unit in my little gated community where I lived and live a life true to myself for the six months of my lease, where at such a time Maria will finally come around to reason and I could move back and live a life together. I was still a firm believer in the institution of marriage and that I took my marriage vows very seriously. 

For the first month or so of our separation, we actually made some positive progress in trying to fix our marriage. We opened a line of communication between us that we hadn't had in years and spent time talking about how the both of us felt. We would some times meet up at a neutral place and just sit in the car and talk for ages. I moved out of our house where we had shared a big part of our lives in July/August 2015. When September rolled around, I decided to ask her out for the day so we could celebrate her birthday together.  I was feeling positive about the steps that we had made in the way of communication and felt that it would be a nice gesture to spend the day together as I didn't want her to be alone on her birthday. 

We packed up our car with pillows, blankets and some food like we had done so many times in the past before and headed down to one of our favourite places on the Mornington Peninsula. We backed our car up to the edge of the water, opened the back of our Ford Territory, put on some nice relaxing music and climbed into the back of our car. We both made ourselves comfortable on the pillows and began talking as we looked out across the rolling waves of the ocean. 

I still remember the conversation so clearly in the back of the Territory that day. After some small talk, she looked at me and told me that there was something that she had to tell me. I remember thinking to myself that she has finally realised that we are better together than we are apart and that she wanted me to move back in. Something had clicked in her mind that yes, she can accept me for who I am like everyone else around me had done and that life could continue on happily ever after. 

What she actually told me, couldn't be further from the truth. Maria wanted to tell me that she had found someone else. That they had met and seemed to hit it off. She wasn't sure where it was heading but she thought it only fair to tell me. I suddenly felt so stupid for thinking that we still had a chance. Hardly a month after leaving her after 20 years, she was telling me that she was developing feelings for someone else. I remember saying to her at the time that I didn't expect that so quick after being together for so long. She replied with, you left me, what did you think I was going to do? Wait forever!

As with most of these Bloggs, this one has taken off in another direction from where I had planned it to go. I don't want to sit here and throw crap at my wife and have you think she is the worst person alive. That's not what this is about. I am from from perfect and I admit that I wasn't the easiest person to live with at the time going through what I was going through. Maria did what she did as a way of coping with the situation, just as I did. Do I blame her for moving on so quickly? Not really, I just wish she had made better choices with whom she moved on with and thought of the wider picture instead of impacting the lives of three other people in the process and no, I'm sorry, I'm choosing not to explain that last sentence any further because I don't want to add to those three innocent peoples pain. 

During these first few months of leaving our house, I was settling into my new unit being him during the day to the outside world and coming home and being myself at night. That was my time to feel totally at peace with myself and who I was. The living area of my house is at the back of it and is surrounded by a big tall fence. I was free to walk around without fear of being judged or persecuted. Also during this time, I had decided to go to my General Practitioner and ask him what my next step was medically. Not that I ever imagined stepping out of my house as myself, but I just wanted to be doing something positive to make myself more myself. 

I had no idea what the process was other than my brother had told me that I needed to see an endocrinologist. My Doctor was more than a little confused at first with what I was trying to tell him. He had never had a Transgender patient before and was a little lost in knowing what to do. I remember him asking me what it was that I wanted him to do. I told him that I wanted some sort of blocker to help with stopping my hair growth. For as long as I can remember, I have always hated body hair. Any opportunity I could take, I would shave it off. This also upset Maria but if I couldn't dress as the person I wanted to be, shaving the hair from my body was like a bit of a compromise which she tolerated barely. 

My Doctor told me that he needed to do some more research before he could prescribe me any form of hormonal blocker, so I left it with him a few days and made another appointment later in the week. A few days later, I was back feeling confident I was going to be walking out with a script only to be told that only an Endocrinologist can prescribe blockers for me. By total fluke my Doctor chose an Endocrinologist that specialised in helping Transgender patients and was a leader in his field. 

This was towards the end of 2015, I couldn't get an appointment with this Doctor till early 2016. It was a bit of a setback at the time because I suddenly felt momentum building, especially after hearing Maria's news that she had moved on with someone new. I guess I kind of felt, well, I need to move forward with my life the best way I can now. 2016 finally arrived, and a few weeks later I had taken the journey to Dandenong Hospital to see Dr Hunter. 

I wasn't a huge fan of Dandenong Hospital as a rule. Trying to get parking is a nightmare like I guess most Hospital's are except my preferred Hospital, Casey. Yes, I have a preferred Hospital, but odd I know but Casey Hospital has always looked after me well over the years whenever I have had to visit. 

My appointment was at the Diabetes Clinic which I thought at the time was an odd place to meet a Transgender Doctor. Before this appointment, I wasn't even sure what an endocrinologist specialist was let alone what he did so yeah, it was a bit of a learning curve. 

I sat in the waiting room having got there an hour early and spent the best part of the next hour watching people coming and going from the busy clinic. The one thing I noticed during this time was that the patients consisted mostly of older people. There was no one like me there so I must admit I felt a little uncomfortable sitting there trying to concentrate on the book I was reading and casually glancing up from the pages to see who was walking past from time to time. 

Eventually a elderly Doctor called out my name. I looked up from my book to see, as you would expect, a elderly man to match the voice calling my name. For some reason, I didn't expect that. I thought he was going to be a young hip doctor with his fingers on the pulse of modern medicine and here was this old tall skinny guy. I learnt very quickly not to judge a book by its cover. This man knew exactly what he was talking about and although I find it hard to trust the male of the species at the best of times, I felt I could trust this guy. 

Dr Hunter explained to me that I needed to see a Gender Psychologist before I could be approved for HRT or Hormone Replacement Therapy. Dr Hunter was able to prescribe me some Hormone Blockers which would help with the hair growth problem. I was on my way, things were actually happening and I could feel that my life was about to change in a way that not even I even anticipated. Every Wednesday night after work for a couple of months I would drive up to Ringwood to see my Gender Psychologist. The Psychologist was a lovely lady and I felt right at home with her straight away. She asked me all kinds of questions about my past and how I got to where I was, some of the questions I must admit I wasn't really prepared for, but I answered them. The final night I saw her she gave me some papers to fill out with even more probing questions but again I went through the process answering every question to the best of my ability till in the end she turned around and told me that this would be our last visit. 

I was a little shocked at first, I asked her if she had come to a conclusion about who I was. She looked at me and told me that it was pretty clear that I had Gender Dysphoria. I can't explain the feeling of emotion I felt at this point. Finally, I had a name for it. After so many years of not knowing what was wrong and wondering why I felt the way I did, someone had finally given me answers to my questions. This also meant that I could take the next step and begin HRT. I walked out of her office that night, went to my car parked in the clinics car-park, and let the emotion over take me. 

The next day I went into work, went into the office and told my Director that I was ready to take the next step and transition and become the woman that I was always meant to be.

Just Give Me A Lake To Look Upon (Part 6)

Saturday 9th June 2018

I think now would be a very good time to bring up the subject of depression. The following words may not be easy to read as it deals with a real life issue that affects suffers all over the world on a daily basis. Chances are that you or someone you may know has this insidious condition and unless you know what its like to experience it, its seriously hard to describe. It's important to note that anyone who has depression, has their own journey. Although journey's may follow similar paths at times, they all have their own destination. Some are lucky to find the light at the end of the tunnel sooner than others, while some journeys continue for years and at times it feels like you have reached the destination, only to be confronted by something else that drags you back. Sadly some don't reach their  destination at all. Some people just give every last bit of energy inside them, fight every battle that presents itself and as each one of those battles gets tougher and tougher, begin to feel that the journey is not worth continuing, that its just way to hard to keep going on like this trying to be so many things to so many people and feeling like you have nothing left for yourself because you given everything and neglected yourself in the process. 

Its kind of strange in a sense because growing up I always knew I was different from everyone else and struggled to find my place in the universe but was I sad? No, not really. I was living in the country and when things got to much for me, I just jumped on my bike and peddled off to find seclusion away from the rest of the world. Most of the time for me, that was a place called the Nhill lake. 

Nhill was a small country town halfway between Melbourne and Adelaide with a population of 2300. It had three amazing pubs and of course, it's biggest draw card, the Talking Horse. The horse was a big black statue of a horse standing on what could only be described as a mountain of rocks. It stood proudly in the main street and it's main purpose in life was to inform the many tourists that had stopped by looking for some respite from the drive between our two cities, some back ground information about our beautiful little town. Yes, for twenty cents you could hear all about how our town was built and put together with the help of this amazing horse. 

The word Nhill was derived from an Aboriginal word meaning Mist over Water. The towns name seemed somewhat appropriate as our winters were freezing cold and most mornings were spent waking up early to see how much our front lawn had frozen over and then running out to walk on it to leave our footprints behind on it. Ahhhh, the days before computers and Ipads when we had to make our own entertainment. Back in a time when a mere footprint left in a patch of grass would brighten my day if for only a short time. I actually remember a news story that appeared in our local paper about a tap that had been left on overnight in the park near the horse by chance. The tap had been photographed the next morning with a column of ice protruding from the tap itself, leading to the ground. Clearly a slow news day by most standards but in Nhill, it was the talk of the town. 

Nhill Lake was a beautiful little spot that had a trail that went right around the circumference of the lake itself. I would just head down there and pedal around it, find a quiet place, usually by a fallen log and just sit there looking out across the water. Sometimes I'd even take a fishing rod, not that I'd ever catch anything but it was nice to sit there with a purpose at times. Truth be told, if I ever caught a fish, I wouldn't know what to do with it so I always considered myself lucky that i never did while I was alone. Further truth, I had no chance of catching anything as I hated touching worms so I used spinners. The fish in Nhill lake were clearly blind because they never saw them. 

I guess, I have always been a bit of a dreamer. Thinking back to those much more simpler days of sitting by the log at Nhill lake to sitting here at my desk typing these words now, I have always dreamed of bigger and better things for myself. The reality is, I can be very lazy at times. I have these great big ideas on what I want to do and things I want to achieve, go crazy on it for a little while then think, whats the point, who's going to read this anyway? I have half written so many books over the years the same way. I have these awesome ideas for stories, sit down and write them then the insecurities creep in and I just give up. I guess for me, writing this has been a little different because it's almost happening in real time so when I see your views and feedback, I know people are reading this and maybe someone will find it interesting if not helpful in some way. 

The point of all that was to try and explain that although I was bullied at school and felt like I didn't fit in anywhere and I knew I was different didn't necessarily mean that my early years were filled with sadness. On the contrary, my years growing up in the country were some of my happiest moments spent on this earth. It wasn't until moving to the city that I began to realise how different I really was and how much I didn't fit in. The children at my new school had no qualms about pointing out my many flaws there. Now I didn't have the Nhill lake to pedal to, in fact I didn't have anywhere to go to that was anything like my lake. More and more I became more reclusive and really not wanting to go out anywhere. 

Acceptance into groups or anything was not an easy thing. I just never really fit in anywhere all the time knowing why, but being to scared to say anything knowing at the time, it was a totally different world and not one I would have given myself much chance in. When an organisation like the Salvation Army accepted me, it was the first time that I had actually felt apart of something. To be honest again, they didn't obviously know what they were accepting but to me at that time it was just what I needed to belong somewhere. They welcomed me in, gave me responsibility and purpose and most importantly, they loved me. 

I guess, thinking back now as I'm writing this, what I refer to along my journey as the black hole, has never been far away. I call it the black hole because that's what it feels like. I can feel it closing in on me and I'm running as fast as I can but little by little it keeps drawing me into the centre and once that happens I'm gone for undetermined amount of time. It might be a day or two or as long as a week to a  month. I try my best to hide it from the people I work with but when you are this person that spends most of the time jumping around like you have just overdosed on energy drinks to a person who is quiet and withdrawn and does her best not to make eye contact for fear of bursting into tears, its kind of noticeable after a while. 

The worst part about having depression is that when people ask me am I alright? Clearly I'm not but you try and shrug it off and say things like, "Yeah, I'm ok, maybe a little tired." it's because more often than not, I can't tell you whats wrong. I have no magic answer for why I didn't feel like getting out of bed this morning, I have no logical explanation for why while driving to work this morning, I burst into tears and nearly drove off the road and drove my car into a tree or off a bridge. There are so many days where I have woken up and asked God to take me away from this pain that I feel everyday. I remember a line from the movie Titanic that sums up the way I felt very well. "Sometimes I feel I'm in a room full of people screaming at the top of my lungs and no one is listening".

Those last fifteen years of my marriage was like that on almost a daily basis. I simply wanted to die, I couldn't take the lie I was living but felt trapped because I was told if I left, my family would be told about me, my work would be told about me. I was told that everyone would think that I was a freak with mental issues and everyone would reject me. My only saving grace at the time was my job. 

I can't tell you how many times my job has brought me back from the point of finishing my own journey and not reaching my destination. I can tell you now, the only thing that kept me alive was those kids. Arriving at work everyday and walking into my room and having a room full of kids running towards me screaming my name and all trying to get close enough for that first hug of the day. THAT KEPT ME ALIVE!!!

There were times when I used to say to my wife that I had to go over to the centre and catch up on some work on the weekend. I'd head over early in the morning and usually get back after dark. What was a doing for so long. Mostly sleeping on the couch in my room to avoid being at home in a toxic environment. I admit that I was pathetic, I was spineless and anything else you can think of. I had no self-esteem and certainly no self-respect. Every ounce of dignity had left me and I was only moving forward because of my kids. 

I tried to get help, I spoke to Doctors and seeked counselling and although they were more than happy to put me on a mental health plan and hand out Anti-depressants, the thing that would really help me, was never going to happen. They wanted my wife to come in to sit in on a session but to her, I was putting on the whole thing and looking for attention. She used to say, "I'm depressed, I don't need anything. Get over it". 

Please understand, this post is not about demonising my wife, its just about trying to give so prospective into my state of mind around that time in my life. I accept a lot of the responsibility because I know I wasn't easy to live with during this time. I spent most of my time skulking around, withdrawn and I suppose not a great deal of fun to be around so I can't blame her for everything. 

In the end, I discovered that I wasn't alone in my journey. I can 't stress this point strong enough. YOU'RE NOT ALONE. Living with Depression you feel like your the only one going through it and no one else will understand. Please let me stress this that it's so not true. There are many of us that live with this every single day with the only difference they find better ways to deal with it. My way of dealing with it was to talk about it a lot. To find people who you can trust and confide in and tell them how you feel and what you are going through. Never be ashamed to hide what you are feeling. I spoke about it to anyone who would listen and I didn't care if it was people at work, people online or a bunch of guests who came to my 40th Birthday party. 

The more I spoke about it, the easier things became and the more I realised that I wasn't alone. Before long I created a Facebook page dedicated to helping other people going through what I was going through. The group became a safe place for anyone to share what they were feeling and what they were going through and for them to know that there was always someone ready to talk with you day and night as their were members from all over.  

This post has been one of the hardest ones to write so far and have had numerous breaks while writing it because it has brought back a lot of memories. If it has stirred up anything or triggered your own memories, please click on one of the links that I will leave to below or feel free to contact me if you need to chat about anything I may of raised or touched on here. Most of all, Please remember that  YOU'RE NOT ALONE.

Sharon

My depression page.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/83358616350/

https://www.beyondblue.org.au/

https://www.lifeline.org.au/

https://www.suicidepreventionaust.org/

The Highest Of High's Vs The Lowest Of Low's............(Part 5)

Wednesday 30th May 2018

I finally arrived home from what seemed to be the longest trip in history. Sure it was a great time spending the weekend with fellow members of our church group, but to be honest I had only one person on my mind. I remember coming back from the band camp trip and thinking to myself, "I have a girlfriend." That made the story even funny for me as while I was thinking that, my very new partner was dancing around her house singing at the top of her lungs that she had a new boyfriend. 

As time progressed, our relationship grew stronger and stronger. We became inseparable and it was like although I was spending almost every waking minute of the day with her, I still couldn't get enough of her in my life. We would go on outings all the time as well spend time just sitting around at my house chatting about what we both wanted to do in our lives. I'd tell her about my writing ambitions and even read her some passages of whatever I was writing at the time. 

At the time I was sharing my house with a friend of mine and her 4 year old son whom I'd met at our church group. I'd found out later that the girl who had taken over my world in such a big way, actually was worried about asking me out because she believed that my friend and her son was actually my Wife and child. Needless to say, we worked past that little obstacle when I reassured her that my housemate was nothing more than a friend. 

Another obstacle that was a little harder to get around, was her Father. Unfortunately, in the beginning Dad wasn't much of a fan to say the least. I guess looking back now, with good reason. I was 7 years older than his daughter and lets just say between jobs at the time. Dad made it quite clear that I wasn't suitable for his daughter  till at least I found myself a job. So, using that as motivation, I set out to find myself some employment. It was also around this time, I attended a seminar at our local Tafe about looking at working in Childcare as a profession. 

While attending our Church, I became a Sunday school teacher. To be totally honest, I only became a Sunday school teacher because the girl I was initially interested in, was one also. Truth be told, that's why I also became involved in our Churches version of Scouts and Guides. Yes, you guessed it, the object of my affection was also apart of that group to. I realised while I was doing these things that I had a flair for entertaining children and for some reason they actually seemed to like me. The idea of becoming a childcare worker came along, so I went along to the seminar and decided that it sounded to much like hard work and that was essentially that. Oh, if I only knew it then.

Not long after that, my case worker at the employment agency that I was attending, put me forward for a job as a Salesperson in a retail store. That started my journey of trying to seek the approval of my Girlfriends Father. Of course it didn't happen straight away but it finally did happen. It took me having to fake an interest in the horses and the greyhounds (his favourite pastime) but in the end, we had a pretty good relationship, right up to the day he passed. He was actually heading over to our house to spend the day with myself and his Daughter so he and I could go over the form guide and place a few bets one Saturday. Sadly he never made it to our house and we were to later find out that he collapsed at the bus stop, had a massive heart attack and died. 

When I finally made up my mind that I wanted to propose to my then Girlfriend, I agonised over how I was going to tell her about me and who I was. I felt that if she was going to make that commitment to me, that I had to be totally truthful with her so she knew what she was getting into. I don't know whether she was just blinded by love or she didn't hear me correctly or at least understood what me being Transgender was going to mean to her. Although, my secret life was still very much a secret to the outside world, I still felt that she would benefit from a heads up to what our home life would be like if she decided to except my proposal. 

Once again she didn't seem phased by what I was telling her so with a big sigh of relief, I asked her to marry me. Thankfully, she said yes. A couple of years later, we were married and our life together began. For the first five years of our married life together it was like we were on a never ending honey moon. If I couldn't get enough of her before I was married to her, I certainly couldn't after we were married. Every single moment of the day we were together, unless I was working of course. We didn't go anywhere without the other and that's just how it was. 

My life seemed perfect, I had an amazing girl who loved me for who i was and better still, i had an amazing person to go shopping with anytime we felt like a splurge on some new clothes. She would tell me what she liked on me and I told her what clothes I liked on her. Everything was going well until one day she stopped me in my tracks and told me out of nowhere, that she couldn't do this anymore. She told me that she married a Man, not a Woman and that she wanted me to stop being who I was. 

I swear I tried so hard to stop being me. For the next fifteen years I tried to stop being me and the more I tried, the more my life would fall apart and a little piece of my identity would fade away. I suffered with depression and began looking at ways of ending my own life. The sad part was that i was so pathetic at that point that I couldn't even do that right. I lost friends, my family could tell there was something wrong but I couldn't tell them because I didn't have any ounce of self-esteem or self-respect left. I remember driving to work in peak hour traffic and just bursting into tears each day because I was constantly thinking about who I needed to be.

As far as our home life was going, all lines of communication had broken down by this point. We surrounded ourselves with things that made us comfortable, for me it was my PlayStation as each night after work I would transport my life to the world of Final Fantasy. For my Wife, she continued her interests in Animal Welfare. She attended rallies in the city and supported Animal Welfare causes all over Australia. 

You see, in another cruel twist of fate, we discovered in the early years of our marriage that we couldn't have children of our own, so that's why we surrounded ourselves with distractions. We had talked so many times about having our own kids. We already picked out names for them, not to mention, going out a buying baby clothes and other accessories. I remember one month when my Wife told me within those first five years that she was late. We both began building our hopes thinking this was it, we might be pregnant only to be crushed a few days later when we discovered that we weren't. It wasn't long after that that I had a count down only to find that I had no swimmers at all. 

It wasn't long after we received the test results, that my Wife hit me with the "I married a Man not a Woman" line. Sitting here now re-thinking about that time in my life, I remember feeling like my whole world had just self imploded. The sense of despair was overwhelming and I felt trapped because it wasn't if I could go and talk to someone about it because no one else knew. I was literally living in my own private prison cell for the next 15 years. To afraid to speak for fear of the consequences of me speaking out. 

Thankfully, this all changed after a night out drinking with two of my friends when I finally opened that door of the closet that had been holding me for the last 46 years and taking an all mighty leap of faith.