Maiden Voyage

All these thoughts, questions, swirled around her head separately and simultaneously and over a period of time. But first, she had to seek help. But from where? Who could she turn to, to ask for help? Who should she tell, and what should she tell them? What was she going to tell her friends, her parents, her brother, her employers, her children, her exes? And when? How, what, where, when? And where should she start? It was all thoroughly overwhelming. .But the biggest question of all, was, why? Why was this happening to her? Why, to echo the words Sonya would ask her in due course, why couldn't she just be normal?

Jessica did everything wrong to start with. She spent money needlessly, wastefully, on little more than toys, on gimmicks, that were of no real value. She bought make up and tried to make herself look beautiful, and instead, made herself look macabre. She had an impetuous streak, and so it was with coming out too. Once she was sure that she had to at least find out what this meant, which effectively meant that she had to take the road to letting her inner woman free, she came out online, via her MySpace profile. She foolishly uploaded a couple of pictures of her in make up, but didn't think to edit her privacy options until it was too late. Her son found them, and he was understandably horrified. "Oh my god, my dad's a fucking transvestite!" he exclaimed to Sonya. Later that morning, Jessica received a very angry phone call from Sonya, asking her what the hell was going on, and how could she be so insensitive.

Sonya told her not to talk to their son immediately, to leave it with her and hew new husband for a day or two. Two days later, with a follow up conversation, and Jessica's first conversation with her son since his discovery, Sonya explained to Jessica that she had sat down with their son and her husband, and explained to him that his father was still the same person regardless, and that she still loved him, no matter what. Jessica re-emphasized those words to their son when she spoke to him, apologized for the trauma that his discovery had caused, and explained that, while she really did not know where this road was leading her to, it was something that she had to do. She explained that it was possible that this was a mid-life crisis of sorts, that it may be over in a year or less, or it was possible that this was the real deal, that she really was a woman, but that she would, as Sonya had told him, love him no matter what.

Sonya and Jessica agreed that Jessica should adopt a separate online identity as she came out, and to maintain the existing one, to which their son would have access, under her old name. This meant choosing a new name. Jessica really had not decided on what she was going to call herself, and this was suddenly all moving rather fast, and had become very real in a very short space of time. She was horrified, and deeply ashamed at herself, that she had caused her son so much hurt through her own thoughtlessness, and resolved to be more careful, more mindful of her family's feelings going forward. But first, there was the name issue.

Her last name, literally, means judge, so in an effort to ensure that her online identity could not be tracked under any circumstances without her wishing it to be, she opted to change both her first and last name. So, deciding upon Judge as an appropriate temporary replacement for her last name, she then chose Jessica as her first name. And so, for a while at least, she became Jessica Judge. And so began her double life – a woman at home and a man when not.

The next hurdle was shopping for clothes. Somehow she summoned up the courage to walk into the womenswear department at Wal-Mart to buy clothing and underwear without really knowing what size to buy, certain that every eye in the store was watching her, as she trembled from head to toe in the line at the register, everyone knowing her dirty little secret. She had to make many exchanges, compounding the embarrassment factor.

Gradually, she began to get it together. One of the first people she spoke to was a close friend, Jamie. When Jamie answered, Jessica asked her, "Hey, do you have a sec; I need to talk to you?"

"Sure what's up?"

"Are you sitting down, this is pretty big?"

"Oh my god, you're not getting a boob job, are you?"

Jessica howled with laughter. "Umm, well, actually, kinda yeah. This is all a bit sudden, but, I've discovered that I'm transgendered, that I'm a woman, and I need some help."

Jamie was mortified, but Jessica just thought it was hilarious: what were the odds that she would ask that? Of course, Jamie agreed to help her friend. In particular, Jessica needed help with make up, and shopping for clothes.

Around the same time, Jessica reached out to a gay friend, asking him if he had any contacts in the transgender community who could help her, and explained why; he provided her with a number of contacts, all of which were useful in their own way. One in particular, Paula, was most supportive and offered to meet with Jessica, and directed her to a support group in nearby Topeka. Another was helpful in a rather different way. She had undergone sexual reassignment surgery (SRS) ten years prior, and fervently urged Jessica to abandon her quest, explaining that her life had become so much more complicated, much harder, and, if she could have the option of making her choice again, she would choose not to go through with her transition. This was helpful, since Jessica found it curious that almost nobody had tried to dissuade her, and this woman's comments forced her to focus once again about the possible pitfalls. This was no whim, this was huge, and the implications for her would be far-reaching and potentially devastating. Once again, she was reminded that she risked losing everything; everything and everyone.

As she once again thought through her issue, she considered the options: to continue down this road, in the now firm belief that she was indeed a woman, or at very least had to find out for sure; or revert to trying live as a man, to pretend this never happened, or to suppress it. The effect was to steel her resolve; now that Jessica had been let out of the bag, there was no way on earth that she could be put back in, and to pretend that she wasn't real, that she didn't exist. And so, she continued.

Throughout this time, in the weeks and months since her vacation and her epiphany, events and feelings from her life up to that point continued to pop into Jessica's head, and fall neatly into place – "well that makes more sense now," was a common thought. Once she had accepted that she was a woman, and resolved to do something about it, her vision was clearer. It was like she went from seeing everything in black and white to now, where everything was in color. It was like she had only just started living her life. Nonetheless, there were still many hurdles to clear, fears to overcome, the over-riding one being fear of ridicule, of rejection, of being abused or attacked. She was even more nervous than ever around men now. She continued in coming out to her friends. With each turn, she held her breath, heart in her mouth, fearing the worst.

She steeled herself late one evening when, at home and dressed in her skirt, she dared to open the door to her apartment glancing out to the night sky to see if anyone was around. She had not dared to set foot outside in women's clothing, and she wanted to be sure nobody was around. As she crossed the street from her apartment late that evening to take her trash to the dumpster, she was so scared she felt physically sick. Over the coming weeks, she stepped outside again and again, finally forcing herself to do so when people, her neighbors, were around, practically running to her car and locking herself in.

Her first trip to the grocery store was even more terrifying. Everyone was staring at her, she knew it. In every aisle another pair of startled, disbelieving and, worst of all, laughing eyes looked at her. She would time her trips to the grocery store, to the post office, to the gas station to when she knew there would be fewer people around. If the parking lot looked too crowded, she chickened out.

One Sunday, she had to go buy cigarettes. She bought her smokes from the reservation, deep in the heart of red-neck county, middle of nowhere, Kansas. It was with that all too familiar feeling of terror, of her stomach tying itself in knots, as she stepped out of the car, and somehow walked across the forecourt in her heels, denim skirt and tank top. Her breasts were barely beginning to form, and she steeled herself for the laughter, the ridicule that she fully expected. But none came. Instead, some bemused looks, and genuine smiles from the ladies behind the counter, and nothing in their eyes but warmth. A woman who had followed her into the store followed her out also, and as she went to step into her car, Jessica was stopped by the woman, who simply smiled and said, "I like your top."

Gradually, it became easier. But Jessica still had to talk to her boss, and, oh god, her parents. What was she going to tell her parents, and when? She did not want them to hear it from another source, but she was terrified of telling them.

Her manager at the call center was surprised, but supportive, as was the HR department; an announcement was made to the staff, reminding them of the non-discriminatory facets of the company policy. At her second job, a family-run furniture store, it was less easy. The owner insisted that she continue to present herself as male, which became less and less possible as time went by. This, together with her utter exhaustion of having worked two jobs for eight years, caused her to finally quit her second job.

She continued to visit the website where she had found that epiphanous story, where she had been an avid reader of erotica for years. She no longer felt quite so confused about her liking lesbian stories, realizing that she was a lesbian, although, in a cruelly ironic twist, she also feared utter rejection from any "real" lesbians – after all, why would a lesbian, who preferred women, want anything to do with her, with her male genitals? It was a bittersweet experience. Worse, she occasionally sought out transgender stories, to convince herself that she was not alone; yet in almost every one, the former guy, under whatever circumstances, was dressed and had make up applied by his sister, girlfriend, wife, or whatever, and instantly passed as a beautiful woman, yet enjoyed sex as a man. Jessica felt sick: this wasn't her experience at all. Instead, it felt like a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly, but without the benefit of a cocoon, all the while she had FREAK written all over her face, both inside and out. And as for having sex as a man, of using this thing, of putting it inside someone else? It disgusted her.

So many times, she sobbed herself to sleep. Why, why, why was this so difficult? Why was she born this way? Why wasn't she born with a female body? She just wanted to be beautiful, to look on the outside how she felt on the inside – a woman. She felt cheated. She hadn't experienced a childhood as a girl, didn't go through puberty as a girl, didn't get her period like the other girls, and had missed out on childbirth. And yet... she had two wonderful children whom she adored, she was in a privileged position to have experienced life somewhat as a man, and now, somewhat as a woman. She acknowledged that not many people got to see life from both sides. And so she found, kept finding, the courage to go on. She started undergoing therapy, was referred to an endocrinologist and put onto female and anti-male hormones. She legally changed her name to Jessica seven months after that earth-shattering vacation.

But she still had to tell her parents. Four months after her vacation, Jessica decided that the time had come. She couldn't keep lying to her parents, and was fearful of them hearing from another source. After the phone call that had left both women in tears, her relationship with her parents became very strained; her dad told her in no uncertain terms that they both found her decision to be hurtful, abhorrent and grotesque. She did her utmost to be sensitive to their feelings, but she almost severed their relationship after being told for the umpteenth how there was no way that her parents could ever accept her as a woman, and how repulsive they found her to be.

They say time heals everything, and maybe it is true. But in the case of Jessica's relationship with her parents, it took a good deal more effort and a lot of love from both sides.

After hearing her parents tell of their utter disgust at her, and then reading about it in a letter from her father only a few days later, she called her brother in tears.

"Peter, you have to speak to them, please? I can't take this any more. I know how they feel, they have made that abundantly, painfully obvious. But do they, Dad in particular, does he really have to tell me about it EVERY time I call, and then back it up with a letter, just in case I didn't get it the first fifty times."

"I don't know what to tell you, sis; it's hard on them, and they don't understand. Heck, I don't understand, but they're our parents, for god's sake. Give them time."

"I know, Pete, I know. But I can only hear them tell me how grotesque they find me so many times. This is hard enough as it is. I don't want to lose touch with them, I really don't; it would break my heart. But, you have to tell them, do or say something to them, please, because if I hear it any more, I am going to have to break off my contact with them myself. I can only handle so much, and I'm really close to breaking."

"Ok, Jess, I'll see what I can do."

Jessica never knew whether her brother actually spoke to their parents or not, but the animosity gradually began to thaw. She pointed out to them that, while she wanted them to accept her as a woman, it was also a two way street, and, she acknowledged that it was going to take time. While they had no inkling of all that she was going through, and all that she had endured previously – there was no way that they could, she, too, could have no clue as to what they must be enduring now too. She had truly rocked their world, and told them "that I feel like I have spent my entire life apologizing to you for not living up to your expectations." All three were mutually apologetic and expressed their love for each other, and vowed to keep open the lines of communication.

Jessica began calling her mom more frequently, and, as the ice thawed, so she was able to refer to herself in the female form: she explained how she was going to be the 'hostess' at an upcoming jewelry party, rather than 'host;' when talking about a female friend she would refer to "another woman" instead of "a woman;" she asked her mother for recipes and advise about flowers and flower arranging; she sent them pictures of her home, with its new, decidedly feminine touch, and she referred to her former, male identity as "he," not "I." And they talked; they talked and talked and talked, as only mother and daughter can. Now, she and her mom are closer than they have ever been; they speak most weekends, and enjoy a deep, loving relationship. Her dad too, while still coming to terms with it, as is her mom, speaks to his daughter as often as he can, though his hearing is not as good as it used to be. While they don't quite yet acknowledge that they have a daughter, they have asked for more time to adjust and, in the meantime, would she let them pretend that they still have an elder son while they do so.

Jessica's son, too, accepts her for who she is – his dad is a woman. Not your typical father, it's true, but she is, nonetheless, his father, and her name is Jessica.

About seven months after starting hormone therapy, her period started, albeit she didn't bleed, but her other symptoms did. She still has issues with her appearance occasionally, but then who doesn't? Her body continues its slow metamorphosis, as her skin and her features continue to soften, her breasts continue to swell slowly, and the distribution of her fat and hair continues to align itself with a more typically feminine pattern. In her early transition, people – tellers, clerks, etc. – would routinely address or refer to her as "Sir" or "he," and the rare occasions on which she was called "Ma'am", "Miss" or "she" would be a huge thrill for her. Now, while she still gets occasional odd looks from curious strangers, and every once in a while a clerk will mistake her for a man, she is routinely referred to or addressed as "Ma'am," "Miss" or "she," and is no longer a source of elation for her; but one of inner peace and contentment.

A year or so after she accepted who she was, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and, for the first time, saw herself as others saw her, as the woman she was, rather than the man who used to look back at her and who used to hide underneath the surface. She relaxed. Finally, she thought, she could stop trying to be someone she already was.

Today, a little over a year since coming out to her parents, and almost two years since that vacation, Jessica is living happily in Kansas; she continues to work as a third shift manager at the call center, and now has her own business as a jewelry saleswoman. One day, when she can afford it – for it is astronomically expensive and not paid for by medical insurance - she will have the surgery, but, as it turns out, this one major step is the least significant of all the challenges to her being accepted as, and accepting herself as a woman. Morphing and blending into society as a woman is far more challenging. In the meantime, she is no longer willing to be identified solely by what lies between her legs. She still has some challenges ahead of her; but whereas she was once the timid, frightened little girl stuck in a boy's body, confused and uncertain of who, or what, she was, she is now a happy, confident woman, sure of her identity and of her gender, and ready to face the world and life.