A slight detour to the spiritual side – the good, the bad, and the ghostly.

When I was young, I used to see spirit people in my bedroom. This started when I was still in my crib – I remember it clearly. There was a woman with a babushka who caught my attention in the window, and said “I just want you to know that everything’s going to be all right.” I closed the curtain on her, and then heard a knock at the window.   When I was a little older, I moved into a small L-shaped room, with two doors and two windows facing Lake Erie. I had to go to bed at 8:00 pm. I always wanted someone to stay up, so that I would fall asleep before they went to bed. After everyone was asleep, the “fun” would start. I would see spirits all night. It seemed there was some kind of spiritual highway going from the wall, right past my bed and through me, to the door.  (Now I know those highways are called ley lines.) I would always see a tall man that was not so nice, who wore a hat, and always tried to strangle me.

The fear would take my breath away anytime one of these events happened.  I hid under the covers for most of my childhood nighttime life. I had a short attention span in school; all I really wanted to do during the day was sleep. And at night stay up because I was afraid that they would attack me in my sleep.

Once I was old enough to talk, I would explain what happened to my mother, and she would say “You need to stop watching scary movies with your father.”  He loved Bela Lugosi and Vincent Price, and always wanted me to watch those movies with him, but I saw terrifying stuff every night and didn’t need to see the movies (or hear the creepy music as a soundtrack).  Years later a cousin stayed in my room and ended up sleeping on the couch, terrified because he felt he was being strangled.

Although my family was Catholic, for years my Mom and Dad took me to Lily Dale, NY in the summertime.  Lily Dale is very unusual – it’s a town of psychics where visitors can get a reading from a large community of mediums.  I would make fun of it though I secretly loved it. My mom always got a free reading at the healing stump, where a crowd would gather with psychics who would pick people out and tell them about their passed-over loved ones. My dad was not so much into it. You have to be open to that sort of stuff.

I always felt Lily Dale was my home even though I mocked it. I didn’t want anyone to know how comfortable I was there – for once I didn’t feel judged. Sometimes my mother would take me by myself because I think she felt the same comfort.  Once she got a reading from a medium who started speaking in Spanish while channeling a relative from Puerto Rico, even though the psychic wasn’t fluent. My mother was so moved, she cried.  We went every summer and my mom brought a lot of friends with her.  They were all afraid during the healing stump readings and would close their arms and legs so the psychics wouldn’t be able to read them.  I was always hoping to get a reading but never did until I was an adult.

When I was 13, I met a medium there from Canada who recommended that I say a prayer every day – years later I found out my mother liked the prayer enough to copy that prayer in her bible.  It’s called the Prayer of Protection, and when I started going to a Unity Church many years later, I found it is a major prayer in that faith.  I say it with my son every night that I am with him.

“The Light of God surrounds you,

The Love of God enfolds you,

The Power of God protects you,

The Presence of God watches over you.

Wherever you are, God is, and all is well.”

Puberty sucks but even more when you're transgender

My menses started when I was eleven. I remember the day. I was in band and was wearing a very stylish-at-the-time light blue suit with embroidery on the back. When I went into the girls’ room with bad cramps, I thought I had a stomach bug but quickly realized what was happening.  I felt embarrassed, ashamed, scared and vulnerable. It was a validation that I was indeed a woman and I was doomed for life in a woman’s body. The idea that I could now have kids was disgusting to me. 

I never wore that fashionable suit again, because I couldn’t get the bloodstains out.

When I came home I told my mom, thinking she would be supportive. She instead got on the phone and called people – family members, her friends -- and told them. I was so embarrassed and ashamed that everybody knew.  Why did God do this to me? I cried a lot that day. In fact, that was the first day I thought about suicide.  I told my mother I was going to take a walk.  There were some three-foot high metal pillars along the road, and I climbed up on one like a pedestal and prayed.  I prayed a lot as a kid. I saw that I could almost reach some power lines from my high spot.  I tried to jump up and grab an electrical line. At that moment, a friend walked up to me and asked what I was doing. I laughed and said I was just checking to see if they were all right. She remembers me laughing and kidding around. It was a great defense mechanism.

When I was 10 or so my brother and his friends used to wrestle with me and play sports. It seemed once I had my monthly thing, that all stopped. It was awful, and I couldn’t share how I felt with anyone because nobody understood how I felt.  It was the 1960s -- a girl feeling like she was really a boy, not just a tomboy, was not anything anyone had ever heard of or talked about in my world.  As long as I could remember, I wished I was a boy. My sisters and my mom would dress me in fancy dresses and socks with ruffles. If you look at baby pictures of me you can see the tear in my eyes wanting to come out.  I can now recognize that haunted expression in pre-transition transgender people. Chastity Bono was one of them – I used to say to my grandmother “That girl looks sad,” when we watched Sonny and Cher.  Later I would watch Chastity transform into Chaz, with profound results.

I did not know about dysphoria when I was in puberty. As a reminder, it is the opposite of euphoria – a state of extreme depression and anxiety.   I felt it quite often when I did not want to feel the woman thing, the dress thing, any woman-associated thing that I had to do. I developed breasts very early, at age 9. So I would use tape or wear a bathing suit to hide my top half, and I hunched my shoulders.  Nowadays, young teenagers who are transgender can use hormone blockers to prevent the shock of your body turning into someone who is definitely not you.

The statistics for suicide attempts among transgenders is startling, at about 40%. They are also at more risk for violence, particularly male-to-female trans women, and even more so, trans women of color.  On November 22^nd, both internationally and nationally, people will observe the Transgender Day of Remembrance for those lost to violence and hate crimes.

I am very happy now and would not have been able to write so freely about this before. Even now it is very hard for me to feel these emotions. It is like opening up wounds and pouring salt into them each time. I am not telling my story to gain pity, but to help others on their path who are like me, and for their loved ones to understand. I felt like I was only half a person for many years and I can honestly say I am whole now.