Bruce Jenner stirs up the pot

I don’t have a lot of time to write at the moment, but I can tell you that I want to write about what it’s like to see trans people in the media. I am a person that is 100% supportive of transgender rights and I want to be all YEAH YOU GO BRUCE JENNER! And “liking” things on facebook, and reading articles and sharing them and all that jazz.

But it is so different. I don’t know how to explain it. Like, because the issue is so fear ridden and personal for me, I can’t “like” articles about Bruce on facebook. I can’t be all gung-ho supportive. I can’t even watch his interview with Dianne Sawyer. It’s like this bizarre conflict in me. The liberal supportive person in me is for all that, but when I see all the media about what is going on, it stirs up so much insecurity in me and makes me want to vomit.

It brings me back to my high school years. When I was 15, I found a video of my dad’s secretary performing oral sex on my dad. I destroyed the tape and and kept it a secret, except from my friends. I began to unravel and became horribly depressed and suicidal. I felt like if I shared the secret, my parents would divorce. If I kept the secret, I might explode. My parents were already arguing and threatening divorce at times. My mother didn’t know about my father’s affair. But, what really made the whole thing a million times worse, was that at this exact same time, the Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky drama was unfolding in the media. My dad would argue for Bill’s case and my mom would argue for Hillary’s. They’d even ask me, I remember they said something in the car about it and I said, WHAT ABOUT CHELSEA! Does anyone even care about her???

It’s a common scenario for transwomen who have been repressed much of their life to start developing the intense desire to transition in their 40’s. Part of me kind of knows that this is my future. I mean, of course I don’t know 100% but it’s what my gut tells me. When I see Bruce, I see my husband. I see my future. I see my fears realized. It’s just so different with it’s so personal.

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Exam room #8

I finally made it back in to my OBGYN’s office for a well woman exam. It only took me almost 2 years after giving birth. My appointment was with the nurse practitioner, a new one (not the same one who was there when I was pregnant).

To my delight, the office was relatively empty. Not too many people waiting around. I’ve  been there before when it’s been packed full of pregnant people. I wondered if my doctor would be around. I wondered if I would see his face and if he would recognize me.

I thought to myself, this is weird, to be here, and not be pregnant. To be, just another woman getting a pap smear. No one special. Just in and out and see you in a year or two. Before having kids, I never made much of my yearly exams. I never cared which clinic I went to or which doctor I saw. The only reason I ever went was to get a pap smear and birth control. It was just sort of like going to the dentist, but even less frequent. But after being pregnant, and developing a relationship with my doctor and his staff, it was like a whole new experience. Toward the end of my pregnancy (err, when I was past due) I was in there every few days. Now I was just back to nameless woman. It was odd.

They called me back and walked me to the end of the hall. They put me in an exam room which used to be the room they would put me in and strap me up to the machine that measured contractions and the baby’s heart rate. The room they would leave me in for like 30-45 minutes at the end of my pregnancy as they worried about all the fluid my body was retaining. I’d just lie there and listen to music or the thumping as my baby kicked around inside me. It brought back SO many memories. So many emotions. I remembered it all so vividly. Anticipating the birth of my daughter. I remember when my doctor told me he would be out of the country from my 39th week to my 41st week. He was so apologetic. But I held out! Baby stayed put! My giant pregnant belly. All the flurry of action and monitoring and guessing. It kind of made me long to be pregnant again. (but I still don’t want a newborn). Now, it was just another room. They’d moved the machine somewhere else. This was just, exam room number 8. Nothing special.

As I sat and waited for the nurse practitioner to come in, to my surprise, my doctor walked in. “Hi there!” he said. “I came to see how you were doing!” His voice is so gentle. His sweet, kind face. “I saw your name on the schedule, (he says my last name), I’ll never forget that name!” (I was his longest pregnancy ever, at 42 weeks). We laughed. He asked me how everything was going and if there was anything he could do for me. Inside, I thought, well you’ve already done it. You made me feel remembered and not just like a nameless person. I kind of wanted to cry. Is that weird? I mean, his simple act just touched me. He told me they would be moving office locations to just a mile down the road to a brand new spot since the current building was going to be turned down. I told him I’d follow him to the moon!

One of his nurse techs came in and helped the nurse practitioner with the exam. She remembered me and we chatted. It was nice. It was sort of like this strange kind of closure to the anticipation and worry I had felt about going back. Maybe a little over dramatic? Oh well, I did it. I told them I’d be back one day for another baby  but not anytime too soon.

Not trying to be judgey here…

But I am.
Adam’s sister’s husband bought her a $115k Mercedes for her birthday. To quote in her text message, “my dream car.”
Perhaps another “sorry I am never home, and instead gone 25 days and nights out of a month” gift?
And apparently she is already talking about a third child, except you see she doesn’t even give birth to her second child until the fall.
*sigh* sometimes it’s hard to relate, as I call myself Practical Patty around here.
Do you ever want people to eat their words? I know that is not a nice compassionate human thing to say. I know our actions matter more than our thoughts, but you all get my thoughts.
I just really sort of hope Adam’s mom is eating her words. As she had said to me when her stepdaughter married her husband Bill, that “I can just tell that Bill will be an absent husband and father” but you see, Bill, in my opinion is awesome. I adore him. And Bill chose to stay home and work from home half the time so his daughter wouldn’t go to daycare. Can’t call that absent…
But when Adam’s sister married douchebag, Adam’s mother kept saying “he is the answer to my prayers. He is so wonderful.” But yeah, who is the absent father and husband now?

Sorry sometimes I let my negative side come out on the blog bc it is anonymous. Not always this much of a negative nelly, and I am still working on trying to develop empathy for Adam’s sister and her botox face. Damn it! There I go again 🙂