Strange fits of exuberance have I known, and I will dare to tell, but in the reader’s ear alone, what last night to me befell. With Mary Jo gone for the weekend, I slept with weird dreams, or more accurately, visions. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, kind nature’s gentlest boon! I haven’t really felt specifically like this before, which is going to sound weird coming from a transsexual, who you’d think would have this thought in her mind all the time, but several times last night (maybe in a dream or semi-awake) I was very conscious of a new and newly-crystallized thought. What fond and wayward thoughts will slide into a transsexual’s mind! “O mercy!” to myself I cried, “I really do want to be a woman!”

Interesting, huh? Maybe I’m becoming aware of a kind of synergy that comes from the observable physical changes to my body, the cumulative effect of hormones, all the laser work on my body, and all the encouragement I’ve been getting from my friends and colleagues. Having dwelt among the untrodden ways, I have long felt there were none to praise, and very few to love, so it’s possible that all this praise for being true to myself and the love I feel from friends, family, and colleagues has pulled me back into the more trodden paths of connectedness.

A less lofty and psychological explanation is that this raw enthusiasm simply bubbles up into my consciousness when I’m in bed alone and allow myself to be more open, even to myself. Whatever the reason, these were surprising (and surprisingly assertive) thoughts for me to have.

At one point, maybe around dawn, I got out my PDA and looked at the schedule between now and the end of the semester, asking myself if it wasn’t feasible to speed things up. “Whoa,” I said aloud. “Where did that come from?” My plan is already pretty speedy, and it strikes me as unwise to improvise, but what’s interesting about this thought isn’t its content, but rather how unusual and surprising it is, revealing a kind of impatient exuberance about the whole process.

I am a realist, of course, and it is simply not feasible to accelerate this process, for my boys have to be ok with my changes, and it’s not fair for the family who don’t know about my trans* nature yet (sister, uncle, among others) to truncate their opportunity to talk, grieve, and process my changes. Although I feel I have lived unknown, and few will know when George ceases to be, I must be deliberate and thoughtful before I cut the cord because my family’s acceptance makes all the difference to me.