It’s my birthday. I’m, yeah, never-mind how old I am.* It hasn’t been a year since I started transitioning (it’s been about seven months), but it’s Mira’s first birthday. It’s pretty special – I’ve never gotten to be the birthday girl before, and girl, I have wanted to be. Birthday party Friday at my house, beer and wine and lots of people who love and accept me, hopefully (it’s shaping to be a decent turnout).

I’m still debating (and running out of time) the relative merits of ordering my own cake vs. running the risk of a no-cake birthday party, which is rather more adult than one wants

It’s amazing to take a moment and think back. A year ago, I knew exactly how many people knew I was transgender. That would be one. Now, I’ve rather lost track – I’m pretty sure it passed 100, and I’m not even full-time yet. A year ago, I still thought I was a monster, and if they knew, so would everyone else. Have I ever been wrong on that one – even my daddy gets it and accepts me. My ex-girlfriend accepts me and she never accepted me when we were together. A year ago, I assumed I would die trapped in my sad-drag-king act. Today, I’m trying to figure out specific timing for when I might legally change my name, and even beginning to more seriously talk about surgical timing and options. A year ago I had testosterone running through my veins, and now I’m well into switching to running on clean-burning estrogens. A year ago, I thought transition would put me in some campy daytime-talk-show world, and last week, my employer brought in an outside counsel to help me with legal aspects of my journey, which will continue full steam without sacrificing the career I love. I actually even have some new business contacts that exist purely because I’m queer (and connected).

Where will I be in another year? If I When I survive (saying this out loud is still an adjustment for me), I hope being me all day, every day, will be starting to get … boring. I’ll probably be thinking about surgery pretty seriously, and I’ll probably have a date for it. I’m sure I’ll be thinking about what we want to do next for kids with autism (well, I’m thinking about that now, I’ll be thinking about the next next thing by then!). I’ll be working on finalizing our next national public policy paper, and maybe digging around for some good opportunities to take on a supporting cast member role in the Movement (that is, look for some minor leadership role in Division 44 or even talking to Women in Neuropsychology or other programs targeted to improve female inclusion about common advocacy points with trans sisters.

“Break the boards, bite a hole through them, squeeze yourself through an opening which in reality hardly allows you to see through it and which, when you first discover it, you greet with a blissful howl of ignorance! Where do you want to go? Beyond the boards the forest begins….” — from “Report to an Academy” by Franz Kafka**

I’ve had nights and weekends that were so impactful that, the next morning or on Monday, it seemed like the day or week before happened a thousand years ago and was foggy in my memory. The kids at Camp were like that when I did my first family weekend. The last year seems surreal, and I still can’t believe I wake up each day and glimpse freedom, that I see a life beyond the bars of the cage. It feels so good to be alive, and although I think life may be back to being a little more boring in a year, I can’t imagine how much better the big four-oh will be. Oops, I’ve rather given it away, haven’t I? But who am I kidding? I love being a middle-aged woman.

** No, this picture is not here because Throwback Thursday… it’s Wednesday today!