Monarch Fall 2015

IT'S NOT ABOUT ME:
MY TRANSITION THROUGH MY FAMILY'S POINT OF VIEW
By Michaela
eplmendy99@aol.com
When I started my transition from male to female I wanted my family to
know that life as they knew it needn't change. I loved my family. I had been
married for over 25 years to the love of my life, Barbara. We were the "Ken
and Barbie couple." I was the rugged, dark and handsome guy. She was the
gorgeous sexy dancer and we had three beautiful children. I was running a
successful business. From the outside we were like the picture perfect
family. But I had a secret that I had been unable to share with my family. I
was born into the wrong body. Underneath my macho male driven veneer
was a female psyche.
The time came when suppression was no longer an option. I was dying
inside. I told my family I needed to transition. I asked them for support and
understanding. I wrote hundreds of letters to our friends and family
informing them of my changes to come and asked support for Barbara and
my three children. My family had been the center of my life and I was
committed to helping them come with me on this journey. I met with a child
therapist to chart the best way to help my children. Barbara could not adjust,
however, to what she saw as losing her handsome, masculine husband. This
was too big a change. She would insist she was not a lesbian. "It's still me
here inside." I pleaded. "Don't you see me?" But she didn't,and without her
support nothing went smoothly with our children. She drank daily and went
on angry tirades.
I came out to my older daughter first. We had been so close. I explained
how for all these years I was hiding the feminine side of myself and showed
her pictures of me made up as a woman. I was not prepared for her reaction
of pain and loss.
"But you’re my father" she said. "I don't want to see these pictures."
I had underestimated how my transition would affect her. I had been a major
force in her life. Through our frequent outings we shared a love of the
outdoors. To her I was the image of the man she would one day marry. In
one afternoon that person disappeared. Several months later she told me,
"you don't realize what a pedestal I had you on. I don't see that ever being
the same."
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