I want to thank everyone for reading my first blog post; I was overwhelmed and deeply touched by the outpouring of support from people willing to take the time to contact me and share their stories, or just tell me that I wasn’t alone. I was moved to tears by some of the messages I received and the fact that so many people cared about me. I cried a lot on the day the blog was posted, partly because I was so moved by the response to the blog, but also because I had found out the day before that I didn’t get the job I had interviewed for at the surrogacy center in Portland, which I had felt so hopeful about.
I try not to let myself get too excited about jobs I interview for, but this one was different. The job itself was just doing administrative work, but it was for a surrogacy center, and it would have meant so much to have a job like that, which had meaning; a job which had such a positive impact on people’s lives. And the staff members I got to meet were all so friendly and I really got a sense of the work environment and that these were good people who really cared about what they did and the people they worked with. I let myself imagine what it would have been like to work there and what a positive impact it would have had on my life, both professionally and personally. And that was a mistake, because it just made it all the more painful when I didn’t get the job.
I received several replies to my first blog post that talked about God or having faith. I guess you could say I’ve been mad at God the past few years, and that we’ve had a bit of a rocky relationship. I’ve never been overly religious; I’d describe myself more as a spiritual person. But I’ve never stopped believing in God, I’ve just had my faith tested. But I decided that this time I was going to put the job situation in His lap and have faith that things would work out. That this was the job I was supposed to have and that all the struggles of the past few years were to lead to this point; to get this job. And once again, things did not work out. What am I supposed to think? I used to believe that there was something to be learned from every situation, but I can’t see what I’m supposed to be getting from all this. I’ve learned patience and perseverance and all the other wonderful clichés that I hear so often. I know life is not fair and that there are many others who are worse off than I am, but I just don’t understand all this. I used to believe that it mattered if you were a good person and tried to do the right things and live a good life, but I don’t believe that anymore. I know that His plans are not always clear, and I’ve heard a million times that He never gives us more than we can handle, or that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. I respectfully beg to differ.
I sometimes feel like the past few years have been a boxing match; that I keep getting knocked down, but then I get back up and continue the fight. Not getting that job was a tough blow to absorb, and I just don’t know if I want to get up again. I have never been a quitter; I used to feel that I was a strong person and that I could deal with anything. But today I feel like a broken shell of that person, and that there is nothing left to save. I know in my heart that I tried my best to get through this, but there is little consolation in that. I just don’t know where to go from here or what to do. As a friend of mine would say, I’m stymied. Although I suppose it would be more appropriate to say I’ve lost hope, or the strength to stay hopeful and keep trying. I feel more lost right now than I ever have in my life.
I’m going back to Missouri soon to spend a week with my sons. This has been the one thing that I’ve been able to grasp onto and look towards. My youngest son graduates from his Naval training today and will be home on leave with his new wife. Something to look forward to; a time to celebrate and enjoy together. Except that Wednesday he texted me to say that Navy doctors diagnosed him with a minor medical condition that could lead to him being medically discharged. When I got his text, I had to stop working and go into the bathroom where I could cry in private. Nearly two years of training could be all for naught. The feeling of security I had about his future has been taken away and replaced by fear and uncertainty. One more thing for me to worry about me. It just never ends.
Lastly, I’d like to address several comments I’ve received.
Regarding my voice, I have researched voice training and understand the fundamentals of how the voice works and what I can do to improve it. I have put in a great deal of time and effort working to improve my voice. However, there is only so much change that can be achieved, and the fact remains that I have a deep, masculine voice.
Several people have commented that maybe now is not the right time to transition. De-transitioning is simply not an option. Period. It would kill me, literally, to go back to living as a male. Not to mention the logistical nightmare of getting everything changed back to my old name. To be honest, I feel neither male nor female; I’m stuck in some sort of limbo, unable to survive in either world. Again, I have no answers to any of this. But if I’m going to die, it’s going to be as Rebecca, not George. George has ceased to exist, and Rebecca has never really had the chance at a happy existence.
Anyway, I feel like this blog post is rambling and disjointed, but here it is. I’m not sure where this is all heading. I guess, if anything, I was looking for a miracle. This blog was my attempt at putting a note in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean; hoping that something miraculous would happen.
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