I want to make a difference

I want to write about something a little different today.

The same topic, but a little more outside myself and outside our household.

The world saddens me. I cannot help but feel sadness and fear whenever I read the news. And not real news, because that’s not real news. But news, about real people.

Like the little 10 year old Brony that tried to hang himself because people made fun of him because they thought he was gay because he like My Little Ponys.

Like the transgender girl that was set on fire because she wore a skirt to school.

Like every time I read that our community’s suicide and murder rates are exponentially higher than any other. That if the suicide rate were this high for the straight community, the government would call it a public health crisis.

 

I find that the further along I get in my transition, I feel more deeply. I feel more of a call to action. I feel like maybe can make a change in this world.

Recently I contacted my local Big Brothers Big Sisters chapter. I have wanted to be a Big all my life. I know that there are a lot of children out there in need of someone, anyone to support them and hang out with them more than they have.

But I don’t want just that. I want to help someone like me. Someone young and with no support. I want to save someone from taking the path that I did.

So I emailed BBBS and told them my story. I told them how and where I grew up. I told them that I started drinking and using drugs. I told them that I left home at the age of 19 and moved halfway across the country to spend two wasted years of my life with a woman that didn’t deserve my time and attention, just because I wanted to feel love from someone that I thought saw the real me. I told them about how I moved back home when I left her and my parents kicked me out two weeks later because they didn’t like that I brought my new girlfriend home one night. I told them about how instead of letting me be homeless this woman let me move to Minnesota with her, and moved me into her home despite the fact that we had only been dating for two weeks. I told them about the suffering and loneliness that I had endured. That I don’t speak to my parents. That I almost gave up. I told them about my transition. I told them that I wasn’t claiming that if I had a Big or someone in my corner to support me that I thought my life would have been different, that I thought I wouldn’t have felt so much heartbreak, that it wouldn’t have taken me so long to finally be where others are right out of high school when they have that support and encouragement, but I told them that I thought everything would be different. And that I wanted to give that to someone like me. That with everything going on in our society, I thought more children deserved more of a chance. That if we could start an LGBTQ chapter we could touch so many more lives. That we could tell these kids “We See You and We Care.”

I haven’t heard back from them yet.

I’m hoping that I do, because this is something that is very important to me. I don’t think that at this time in my life it is something that I can start on my own, and I’m not totally sure how I would go about doing that, but I really hope since they are already established, it is something that we can get going that way.

And I would be more than happy to be the first LGBTQ Big.

I just really want to make changes. I want to make this a better place to live. I want people to be happy, and I want to stop hearing heartbreaking stories about young children hurting each other and those kids feeling it necessary to end their lives.

Wes.

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And so it begins…

I’m Weston.

About a year ago, I finally came to a conclusion. A big one.

I’m transgender.

I’m not a lesbian female. Not anymore. Not really ever. Lesbian was never a proper fit for me. I hate the word for myself. It feels…. foreign.

In my head I’m a man. A good looking one, too. He’s strong and quick witted. Brave. Mysterious. He’s intelligent. An amazing lover, never jealous and always early.

I am none of these things. Well… I’m smart. Not always common sense smart, but I’m smart. I can carry on a conversation about most things… except anything that has to do with math (this I’ve always known, but was glaringly obvious recently over coffee with a new friend). I am clumsy. I am messy. I am forgetful. Probably most of all, I am awkward. So awkward.

And I am transgender.

It’s always been a bit of a struggle to understand. My gender has always wandered back and fourth, back and fourth. It’s confusing. A question always running in my head:

“What am I?”

Within the last year, I have settled on the what. It’s been hard some times. The who feels like that will be a question that will take longer to answer.

On October 22, two days after my 26th birthday, I had my first appointment with my endocrinologist. That evening, I had my first shot of Testosterone.  My wife gave me the shot. She has been very supportive. I don’t have a video of the first shot like many people do. I thought about taking one, but I didn’t. Half of me is glad and half of me wishes I could watch it over and over. I think watching me yell and wimp out several times would be hilarious to watch. Funny enough, I don’t think shots are so scary.

Until someone is winding up to shove a 2 inch long needle into my thigh muscle.

Then shit gets real.

Today is day 27.

I haven’t seen any real changes yet. I wake up every morning eagerly anticipating my beard. I think that my voice has changed some. I am going to start doing random recordings to see if I can tell for myself. We already take a lot of videos of random things, so keeping up shouldn’t be hard. Logging them will be the part I need to keep up with. I have also started taking photos everyday. So when the changes start, I will be able to see when they happened.

My wife and I are going to maintain this blog together. A sort of transitioning together blog. It is our journey and our story, we figure why not tell it together.

Wes.