I've been part of this community for a little over four years, but I don't think I've ever said much about who I am or where I fall in the spectrum of transgendered people.

This blog entry is kind of a spinoff from something I wrote to Gwen Brown earlier today, in response to a really lovely note from her.

Like many others of you, I've also just had a birthday, and that puts me -- shockingly -- well into my fifties. I have two good friends who were born on exactly the same day as me, and we all feel it: 56 is quite a shock. It puts 60 so much closer. But I don't feel old. I'm in good shape and I look pretty good. I wish I had a little more hair and a few less pounds, but oh well.

I didn't have the same suffering that a lot of you did. I grew up in a big family that was -- admittedly not so affectionate, but quite definitely there. Only a few times in my life have I ever felt alone, maybe only three, but I guess the physical sensation of being an inalienable part of such a big family makes the idea of alone something that I often wish for but never get. I'm usually surrounded by people, at home, at work, so what I often feel I lack is any real privacy.

I'll tell you two of the times I felt alone. (These both happened long ago, by the way.) One was about a month after my father died. I was walking across the Longfellow Bridge, which is probably better known as the Salt and Pepper Bridge. I stopped near the middle and suddenly the sense that I'd never see my dad again, never hear his voice or be able to ask him for help, the sense of being alone came crushing down. I hid behind one of the towers and cried for a while. The other time, I was living in NYC and my girlfriend dumped me for a strange reason that I still don't understand. I watched the doors of the A train close on her smiling face ("You're so silly," she said when she saw how upset I was) and watched the train until it was completely out of sight. Then I went up and wander the streets of Manhattan crying like an idiot, not caring who saw me. (I'm not usually so self indulgent, by the way.) I realize it may sound contrived and melodramatic, but it really happened this way. It was the first time anyone had broken up with me and I was desperately in love with her. After a while I stopped and realized that there was no one on the streets around me. It was two in the morning and the city -- at least the part where I was -- was empty. And I suddenly saw how stupid I was, how vulnerable. Anything could happen there and there would be no one to help.

I'm sure that for some of you those incidents are quite trivial, considering the things you've gone through. I've never been thrown out of a home, a church, a group, or cut off from family or friends -- except for a brief period after my divorce, but that only lasted three months.

I've been very lucky. I was never bullied or harrassed, and although I was very puzzled by my desire to wear women's clothes, in the era in which I grew up I didn't think it was possible to change, so I never considered it. I knew about Christine Jorgensen, but her SRS happened before I was born and always seemed quite exceptional. It seemed as impossible as an encounter with a UFO, so I never considered it might be for me. I didn't buy women's clothes; I was opportunistic in wearing them. It wasn't until I began working on the internet that I began to find out how common my feelings were. In 2000, while my wife and daughter were on an extended vacation, I very seriously dressed up and went out, and did several times after that, always when they were away. I began seriously thinking for the first time about whether I wanted to change gender. But in the end I realized that I wasn't suffering with my feelings. I wished I could be a woman, but if I couldn't, well, that was that. I quite clearly wasn't dysphoric; I'm gender euphoric -- although that's not the right term. It's not that I feel I was born in the wrong body. I don't have any revulsion at being male (although whoever had the idea of putting the testicles in a little bag was quite crazy). Being a woman just seems immensely better, and it would jive with the sort of person I am. I mean, the way I behave, the way I interact with people, is more typically female than male. I'm not aggressive or competitive; I'm more interested in what sort of person I am than in what I do. When I look at beautiful women, I think God, I wish I looked like her! When asked if I could be anyone I wanted other than myself, the answer was always a specific woman, never a man. I can't think of a man I would want to be, other than myself. Being me is not bad.

I wrote quite a bit when I first joined this site. At that time I had my own office and was able to quite privately spend an hour a day, every workday, on stories. But that company fell apart and for a while I didn't have that leisure again. I can't work on stories at home because my wife gets so curious. I can type as quickly as I can talk... it sounds a little like rain falling... and she can't help but ask, "What on earth are you typing over there?"

Lately I've been able to carve out some time at work. Not always an hour, but at least 30 minutes. If I work a little harder in the morning, I can free up the time. I carry a USB fob with me. It has all the things I'm currently working on, and Keynote, which is a wonderful outlining software. I use it to work out plots and keep track of the calendar (in the stories) and characters and questions that must be answered.

I'm not as prolific as I once was, but I'm feeling a lot better about what I write. I'm that being involved and active here has made me a much better writer. And it's quite nice to not be as popular as I once was. I don't feel the pressure to produce; I can take my time to get things right. And it is a positive pleasure to read other people's work and leave comments and encouragement. I think I'm getting a lot more out of THAT than I did writing, and writing is an enormous pleasure.

So, that's a little about me, in case you were curious. If you're not, that's fine too.

Hugs,

Kaleigh Way

Oh, there is one more thing I ought to say: I often laughingly tell myself (although these are real wishes) that I am a simple man with a simple dream: that I'll encounter an alien who'll have (and will let me use) the technology to turn myself into a lovely young girl AND (although this part is optional it would be nice) that we fish a duffle bag full of cash out of the Gulf of Mexico.

Failing that, I'm actively planning for reincarnation to give me the right body, even if it means giving up the duffle bag full of cash.