Dealing With Anger . . .

  . . . Finally!

At my therapy session last week, I brought up something in my current life where I could see me acting out in anger. I was curious and worried where it came from.  It had to do with a relationship with a man and . . . while I don't have an attraction or an antipathy to men, in this one context I could see myself taking out my anger, punishing, a man.  It isn't pretty in my imagination.  It isn't who I want to be.  I don't believe it is who I am.  

I wanted to explore where it came from.  I wasn't so much interested in dealing with my anger, just understanding where it came from and, hopefully, keep that demon bottled up.

I've been seeing my therapist for almost four years.  She is an excellent match for me and a lot of the things I have worked through she has been a huge help and support. But!  But, it took me well over a year to express my sadness and sorrow and grief to the point where I could cry in front of her.  I am sure she was wondering when or if I would ever get to my anger.

When I was younger, a long, long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away ...  up 'til I was about 15, I had a very volatile, very violent temper.  I didn't get in to more than a few physical confrontations with people, but I broke a lot of things in my anger and rage.  The last real outbreak of my anger, that I can remember, was with my Dad.  I started a physical fight with him.  I wanted to hurt him and hurt him bad!  He was 44 at the time, in fairly good physical shape and in reasonable command of his body.  I was fifteen, bigger than he was but I really didn't know anything about fighting with another person.  The result was that I couldn't do anything to him but kind of wrestle around.  Mom came out to break up the fight.  Dad said we were just funnin' and laughed it off.  My mom looked at me and said, "I don't think so."  Dad never really laid a finger on me, but he cut me to my heart with the way he dismissed and made a joke of my anger.  That was the last time I really let my anger out.  After that...  after that, I would be obviously angry on occasions, but I wouldn't say anything or do anything outward -- I would just steam inside.  My anger would be very hard for me to let go.  Over time, I've come to bury it deeper and deeper.  I would just eat it. (and eating is one of the things I do when I'm angry -- there's a reason I'm 40lbs overweight)  I tried to be an "adult" about it and rationalize my anger.  I would very rarely take it out and look at it and own it or find the legitimate things about what I was angry about and deal with them.

Ephesians 4:26 Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, 27 and do not make room for the devil. So says Poppa's Book.  I don't know that I've heard of where it says how to  "be angry but sin not.."  but the point is, being angry is a legitimate emotion.  Where things are wrong are in rage and in not processing the anger.  In my head, I knew, know this verse, but never, Never have been able to own my anger and deal with it in a way that is healthy for me and healthy for those around me.  I just don't really know how.

And my anger scares me!  Scares me to death!  I don't know where the anger ends and the Rage begins.  I don't know when I'm being angry over nothing or over little things or when I am angry about a principle that is important to me.  I am afraid I might do physical harm to people I love.  I am afraid I might irreparably damage and tear relationships that are precious to me.  I am afraid I will end up alone.  For these reasons, I pull into myself, away from people and try to just let things cool to a place where I can function with people again.  But I do not deal with the anger.

And I have a lot to be angry over. Some of it reasonable, some not so...

I am angry that I didn't do what I could to transition in college when I first thought of it.  Or again when I was in my thirties.  I am angry I threw away the opportunity to be a young and reasonably attractive woman.  I am angry that I threw away a chance to have a life-partner.

By keeping the secret of my gender (even from myself in a lot of ways), I froze out people who I wanted desperately to have a close relationship with.  That especially includes my Ex and my Children.

I am angry that my Ex abandoned me.  I deserved better -- "In sickness and in health, till death do us part."

I am angry that my First Daughter and Son abandoned me.  I  deserve better!  I gave up my girlhood so they could get through college before having to really deal with their Dad's gender.

I am very angry that one of my mentors when I first came out threw away our relationship.  

I am angry that a woman I had thought my best friend (after my Second Daughter) has cut me off.

I am angry that another really good friend doesn't talk to me anymore.  She thinks I've abandoned her but she left the relationship a long time before I stopped making the effort.  I am angry that I don't know how to reach out to her.

I have all this anger and more and I do not know at all how to tap it to let the anger go and be healthy.

My therapist was almost bouncing that I started to express my anger.  And assured me that our sessions are a safe place for me to express my anger.  But I need to learn how to express it in my everyday life in a way that is honest and authentic with the people I love.

Poppa's Hand in my life...

I hope that anyone who knows me, knows that my God is important to me. My relationship with my Lord and Savior, and my Spiritual belief, my Faith life are all important to me and always have been. But it didn't flower until I came out and started being who I really am and at the same time came to see my God as my Holy, Loving Poppa.

This last weekend was terrifying to me. I don't have any idea where my faith went -- I certainly wasn't thinking about it much at all. But in looking back, Poppa's hand was Everywhere!

First, I was with friends and not on the road, driving. or by myself without anyone to lean on.

Second, the two friends I was with have extensive lay medical knowledge and knew exactly what to do. They knew what and how to test me for the stroke.

Third, the house I was visiting is TWO BLOCKS from the EMTs.

In the aid car and at the ER, I was accompanied by one of my friends who gave clear and concise answers to questions about the event.

When I was assigned a room, it was the same room as my friend who had been in for an emergency appendectomy the night before.

The hospital I was admitted to is brand new, state-of-the-art and able to run all of the tests I needed to diagnose my stroke.

My Second Daughter dropped all her plans for the day and came straight to see me.

My ex [I hate calling her that!] came to visit right away.

My First Daughter, who I have not seen in a year and a half and only rarely communicated with, came, scared for me, scared of me, but she came, and she hugged me for along time. For me that was Huge!

My brother Tim and his family came to support me.

My brother Bill and his wife came ti the hospital to see me. Bill has not talked to me at all since the day I came out. He followed up the next day with a txt asking how I was and saying I looked good.

My friends kept me company and reassured me til very late. All of us were exhausted, but no one more so than my friend who had just had an appendectomy. They all went an extra mile!

My Second Daughter stayed with me all night, she wouldn't let me be alone with my thoughts and fears!

When I was discharged, I went to my friend's home again and they convinced me to stay the night so there would be someone there if something happened to me.

The many things that happened that were coincidences were things that I take for me to be Poppa's Hand. But so much more than that was the great outpouring of support, and concern, and love. For Love is from Poppa, for Poppa IS Love.


- Shannon Tucker
"It takes courage to grow up and turn out to be who you really are."
e. e. cummings

Wanting to be Wanted

So … at my therapy session yesterday we talked about the years of being a woman in her prime that I gave up for my First Daughter and Son, that they might have as close to a "normal" childhood or, at least, a childhood that they didn't have to deal with their father the transsexual.

And what did I give up?

I was in better health in those days and it is reasonable to think that my transition would have been different. Perhaps I could have had hormone replacement therapy I wasn't diabetic then and wouldn't have had other health issues that would have held up my GCS.

I gave up a dynamic and powerful time in a woman's life; a time of being attractive, desirable and vibrant. I would not have been beautiful or glamorous, but much more attractive; someone who would have caught the eye of somebody who wanted to know me better.

I know I am a catch. I am not hard to look at for a woman of nearly 60. I am a sweet, sensitive, caring and kind person. I have a nurturing and empathetic spirit.

At 60, a woman with my qualities makes a great … Mom or Gramma.

I have a card on my door that asks, "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" My answer has been 36 and sometimes 43. And because I haven't been living my true self very long, the middle 30's isn't an unreasonable description of my spiritual and emotional age. The women I hang out with most of the time are in their 30's. Women in their 30's are who I am attracted to. But these wonderful people, that I love dearly, don't see me as a peer. They see me as a middle-aged Mom. A mom they love and cherish and respect, but a mom. Or an older sister-type of person.

The women, attracted to women, more my age see me as a woman and respect me as a friend, but when it comes to dating? They see me still as a man.

It would seem that the people I want to date either see me as a mom or as a man.

My dating pool resembles a mud puddle in the Arizona sun.

What I Did For Love ...

I visit my Second Daughter on Monday's. Tonight, she made a simple salmon dinner with brown rice, which works well with my diabetes. It was a very good dinner. After dinner, she showed me the proofs of her photo shoot. She's doing some amateur modeling and she's very excited about it. She should be.  She is a very, Very beautiful young woman. The proofs she showed me were outstanding!

I haven't had the best day. I'm feeling old, forgotten, unlovely, and undesirable. When I was Debra's age, I wouldn't have been anywhere near as beautiful as she is, but... but... It doesn't really matter.



I gave up my best years so my First Daughter and my Son could have something like a normal Dad.



Tonight... tonight I am feeling the loss of those years, the times when I might have been beautiful and desirable.

It hurts...

It aches...