While I was writing poetry and worrying about swimming suits and work clothes and a thousand other little things, something happened.
I slipped into being Joyce full-time, well ahead of my anticipated schedule of July. Considering how much planning and processing and prognosticating I’ve done over every detail of my life for the past two years, this turn of events seems surprising. Funny thing is that I didn’t really even say to myself, “Joyce, today’s the first day of full-time,” or “wow, today is the very last day of George.” The concept never crossed my mind.
It’s just that when I got ready for work on Tuesday, having been the real me since Saturday morning, I just dressed normally and continued being me. It seemed the natural thing to do. I don’t think the idea that I’m Joyce full-time and forever actually crossed my mind until Wednesday or perhaps even today.
I think I would chalk up this turn of events to the students who were here in Bedford Falls for a 2-week seminar as part of their degree requirements. They learned of Joyce in April and were accepting and encouraging, going so far as to ask (when I came to work as George), “What’s up with this look? I thought you were Joyce.” Mary Jo and I held a party for them last Saturday, and many of them came to see the house and to meet Joyce, and I felt all my resistance begin to crumble in the presence of their acceptance and normal party activities. The next work week, George fell further and further away and felt more and more awkward to maintain. When Saturday, the last day of the seminar, rolled around, I went to work as Joyce–linen pants, white shirt, salmon blazer. And from 9:00 until the farewell dinner was over at 8:00 pm, that’s the way I was. I held a focus group, introduced a lunch speaker, did advising with my students, conferred with other faculty, went to a group therapy session, bought a few cases of beer, and went to a Japanese steakhouse for our final dinner together — and somewhere in the day, I forgot who I was.
And by “forget,” I mean that I quit thinking about who I was. Or maybe it was that I remembered who I was.
Since then, it’s been Joyce round the clock, experiencing the mundane world in really interesting ways, which I’ll catalog in short blog entries as they occur. For now, though, I am still a little dazed by these events — maybe one simply realizes she’s ready and regardless of the calendar, just steps through the gate.
Looking back, one notices that the gate is no longer there, primarily a product of one’s mind instead of external forces. I’m standing on the other side and see no portal, no reasonable boundary between the old me and the new me. I am very surprised to see how easily I fell through and how easy it is to be me
TransLate 
May 29, 2008 at 5:43 pm
Very nice! Yes, it’s funny how when we start, we almost think there needs to be some dramatic event to mark being “full-time”. Like you, my going male full-time happened almost imperceptibly. Although there are still some technicalities, like feeling safer in the women’s room in certain environments or still needing to sign my given legal name on certain documents or when dealing with my son’t school, most of the time I just am who I am without really thinking about it.
Anyway, congrats on letting Joyce go free! In my case, Nancy will always be a part of me. I wonder how you feel about George.
May 29, 2008 at 8:16 pm
I’m glad you mention integration of selves, Jacky — I think that’s what I love about your blog and your comments — I feel the same way about George as you do about Nancy. My psyche is permanently bound up with my past and my future, and I think it’s sheer folly to pretend that Nancy or George don’t exist.
If anything, I see this transition as the ultimate gift to George — it freed him from his toil, so much of which was spent covering up my existence. He’s a good-hearted man and I genuinely like him, but he’s earned his retirement.
May 30, 2008 at 6:50 am
Wow, Joyce. That last bit almost brought tears to my eyes. In the past few months, I’ve come to realise that I do see myself as giving Nancy a gift. The gift of freedom from material existence, having to worry about menial, mundane existance when she has so much potential to do wonderful intellectual and spiritual things! Like George, Nancy spent most of her life trying to hide because she thought there was something wrong with her.
Nancy has proven herself to be resilient and strong, qualities I admire and want to keep as a part of me. My last honour to her will be to get a PhD in her name. I’ve decided to hold off on a legal name change until I’ve finished my PhD. In many ways, it will be a long 3 years but worth it. Unless the university is willing to grant me a PhD in Nancy’s name even after I have a legal name change. We’ll see.
May 31, 2008 at 12:01 am
Hooray ! I wish I could have been there to have Japanese steak with you all.