Restroom Adventures

 

Image from CDC on UnSplash

Since my wife Liz and I went away on a trip to New England for so long, I have several restroom adventures to share.

The main one I did not think of was what would happen when I needed to seek out an open handicapped stall to use because of my mobility issues. I needed all the help I could get to make my way around to get to the toilet.

The first big issue came in Boston, where I was not expecting any difficulties. The first problem came when the only elevator down to the restrooms was broken and I had to try to use a steep set of stairs to make it to the restrooms themselves. I guess I looked unsteady enough for a younger man to offer to help me down the steps. But I made it alone. Then I found the handicapped stall and it was empty. The only bad part was the lock on the door was very flimsy, but by that time, I had no choice but to try it anyhow. In the beginning, all was good, and I finished my business with no problems. Then I heard a mom and young daughter enter the room. At that point, I tried to pull up my leggings and get myself together before BOOM, the kid barged through my stall door before her mom could stop her. Fortunately, I had my leggings almost all the way up as the mom pulled the kid out of there and all was alright. I went ahead and washed my hands and swiftly exited the restroom with a slight smile on my face.

Another one of the positives which happened on the trip was I got a chance to work on my voice again. It turned out I needed a passable voice to get me by in the restroom which on occasion was really crowded. Several times I had to respond to someone inquiring if the stall was occupied. The last thing I wanted to do was respond to another woman asking if the stall was occupied with a man’s voice. I did well enough I guess because no one ever questioned me on it.  Which gave me extra confidence to carry on other conversations with other women on other topics.

No matter how many rest stops the bus made, there still were times when I had to use the toilet on the bus. It was times like these when I was happy, I could sit down to pee. If you ever tried to negotiate moving around on a motor coach, you know what I mean, At the least you have to be very careful and at the worst, you have to be really careful to check the seat before you sit down. Even though I have to give the Amtrak train we took from Boston to Maine passing marks for timeliness and comfort, the restrooms left a lot to be desired and in fact, one seemed to be flooded and out of use. Fortunately, I did not have to go and let another woman take my spot.

Similar to so many other bus trips we have taken, in a relatively short period of time I was accepted for myself and no indication of any pushback of any one on the tour except that one guy on the first day who made the point of pointing me out to his wife From then on, I ignored him and everything was OK. It seems there always needs to be at least on hater these days wherever you go sadly.

Traveling while transgender will always carry extra baggage and we did not even go on modes of transportation such as flying which brings with it a whole other set of potential problems. Once I conquered my rest room fears, I was able to bond with the other women on the trips, and all turned out to be a good move. I made it through mentally and physically, so we have another trip planned. The whole process keeps me challenged and aware of my transfeminine being alive and well. Which is what I need at my age of seventy-five.

The restroom adventures just turned out to be the icing on the cake, it even got to the point when other women were helping me to the restroom. I needed all the cisgender acceptance I could get to build confidence. In fact, I found myself in situations where I was in danger of outing myself. Which is a topic for another blog post. 

Back from Vacation

 

JJ Hart at Faneuil Hall, Boston.

My wife Liz and I’s vacation from Ohio to New England was wonderful.

Of course, there were many highlights which I will try to remember and pass along also. but first I needed to conquer my fears of getting along with any potential problems with a stray gender bigot on the tour. I was afraid of losing my restroom privileges. I really don’t know why I feel this way because this was the sixth tour with Liz, and I have been on with no problems. I guess paranoia runs deep.

At the beginning of the tour, I passed another couple on the way to the restroom. Then I got the nudge from the man to his wife to look at me which I dreaded. At dinner that night, we needed to sit in parties of four and no one wanted to sit with us. By this time, I was not feeling good about the rest of the trip and to hell with these other people.

At that time, things started to loosen up as I began to engage with most of the other women. When I did, everything turned out to be in my head. As I began to actively smile and engage with the other women on the trip, they engaged with me. So much so I encountered two occasions when I needed to back off my interactions before I indirectly outed myself. It turned out that one other woman who appeared to be my age told me she was from the same hometown I was from and even went every summer to the same fishing camp for vacation. I was going to ask her what high school she went to, but then I thought better of it because my mom taught at one of the three high schools in town and it was a possibility she could have had mom for a teacher and knew she only had two sons. The other interaction was with a German man who was from Stuttgart, where I was stationed when I was in the Army. I did not want to go deeper with him either and never mentioned I was in the Robinson Barracks area of the city when I was there. One way or another, it turned out to be a small world with those two.

After I had conquered my socialization fears of others reacting to me being transgender, I was able to relax and enjoy the wonderful scenery of upper New England in states such as Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont. Liz and I even had great train experiences from Amtrak, a lake dinner train, and the cog railway which went up Mt. Washington. We were fortunate to have great weather all the way including our trip to the peak.  

Since I needed to take my mobility device with me, which is a cross between a walker and a roller, I learned the importance of finding handicapped accessible areas which there were many. In fact, my mobility issues overcame my misgivings of my being the only transfeminine person around. I was just being me. I only lost the first day of worry before I gained my confidence back that I had as much right on the trip as anyone else.

As I said, we had a great time and enjoyed the diversity and beauty of New England and Boston. I will have several side stories to share with you about Boston and Harvard themselves in separate posts. As well as a post about the unique rest room challenges, I faced.

Thanks for sticking with me in my absence.

'Cation

 

Headed for Maine!

I will be off-line for approximately the next ten days because my wife Liz and I are headed off from our native Ohio on a bus/train tour of Boston and New England.

Mixed in with all the planned activities are my usual paranoias with acceptance and restroom usage. It helps we travel this time through more liberal minded states, rather than the deep south where we went last trip we took. For the record, this is our fifth trip with this company, and I have had no issues with what bathroom I was using, so you would think I could quit worrying about it. But I can’t completely. I just want to relax the best I can and enjoy activities such as a lobster bake (lobsta!) as well as other fun things to do in Boston up to Maine.

Sadly too, I need to rely on having an accepting driver who will help me unload my collapsible rolling walker so I can get around easier. The last driver we had helped me totally and his tip reflected it.

I am also looking forward to having another “lobsta” roll with butter along with a Maine Whoopie Cake which I had when we went up there a couple of years ago.

Most of all, I will miss checking in with all of you every morning with my ideas with how my life as a transgender woman came about. I could take my laptop along but decided against it. Primarily because I think a break will help me clear my mind and do better when I get back. Plus, I know pictures of me are not my strong point, and we are trying to get better on this trip. Maybe I will have more to share with you.

See you in ten days!

Gender Blockers

 

JJ Hart, picture taken after mixer.

Gender blockers often came fast and furious at me as I lived my life.

First, I needed to figure out how to camouflage my big boned testosterone poisoned body so I could present well enough in the world to get by, once I arrived there. Which in itself was a big enough hurdle to face. Then I summoned the courage to go out of my closet and into the world, I learned the hard way how much further my trip would take me and how many people would try to block me.

At the beginning, it was never easy, especially around teen girls who always seemed to figure me out and have quite the giggle at my expense. Often, it took weeks for me to recover, go back to my cross-dressing drawing board and try the world out again. Fortunately, these were the days when I was attending the cross dresser-transgender mixers and parties in nearby Columbus, Ohio. At these events, often I was able to compare myself to others around me with the same gender issues and see how I was doing with my presentation.  Also, I left the diverse parties I was going to by discovering a deeper understanding of where I possibly was going in my life. I was learning I was so much more than just a man with a hobby of looking like a woman. I kept going back to the fact that increasingly I wanted to be a woman. It was my dream.

Often, my dream was shattered by a number of outsiders. While my wife was very supportive of me as a cross dresser, she completely drew the line at any suggestion I was transgender and had nothing to do with me starting HRT. Then she would team up against me with my male self who was beginning to feel threatened with losing his world. Mainly because I was beginning to have an idea of how my gender dream could become a reality. If my male self was becoming successful in conquering all the blocks and hurdles, he ran into, why could not my feminine side do it too.

At times, my male to female transition process was allow and tedious, and at other times fast and exciting. Frustration would set in when I would try to spend three days a week concentrating on my transfeminine side of life, only to have to revert back to my old male side the remainder of the week. Including my job which was male dominated. The whole back and forth gender life destroyed my fragile mental health and made my life hell, except when I was in my transgender phase. I had too many plates in the air which I was trying to keep spinning. Sort of like trying to keep several girlfriends happy at once.

I could finally take it no longer and needed to try to start removing my roadblocks one at a time. I began with the social roadblock. Could I actually begin to carve out a brand-new life as a transgender woman where no one knew of my past. To my surprise, I found I could. Probably because when I got past the point of thinking I was trying to fool anyone into thinking I was a cisgender woman, I just became me, and I was good enough not to scare anyone away.  One roadblock cleared. The next thing I needed to figure out was how I was going to support myself. Because transitioning on the job was out of the question, I needed to find a different answer. I took so long to do it, the problem solved itself when I got close to a point where I could take an early Social Security retirement and then sell the many collectibles my late wife and I had collected to survive.

With all the gender blockers to my dream out of the way, I needed to push my own feminine self-improvement program ahead. It meant seeking out an understanding doctor to prescribe me gender affirming hormones. When I did, I was able to see and sense a noticeable difference in my external and internal self. My skin softened and my hair grew so I could use less makeup and leave my wigs behind for good. All of which helped me to present better in public. Internally, I could not believe all the changes HRT was helping me with. I was more emotional as my world softened. For the first time in my life, I could cry tears of sadness and even joy.

From then on, I had paid all my dues and was ready to settle into the dream life I never thought I could obtain.

Finally, as a serious side note, it is 9-11, never forget.

Change was Coming

 

JJ Hart

As I grew into myself, I learned the truth. Change was coming if I liked it or not.

Change was one of the reasons I loved the fall season so much. As the weather cooled off and football came on, I could go through my feminine wardrobe and see what I could keep and what had to be discarded. Plus, I can’t forget Halloween which of course is the cross dressers’ national holiday in October.

Sadly, as the leaves began to change and fall from the trees, the whole time was bittersweet for me. The worst fall I could remember was when I was on a six-month delay to join the Army and I was working at a small radio station in Bowling Green, Ohio. If you are not familiar with that part of northwest Ohio, it is very flat to the point that any hills are manmade. One night, I was just driving around feeling sorry for myself as I looked ahead to Army basic training and I was so sad as the leaves blew in front of me. If I could have cried, I would have, but tears were nearly impossible for me in my male pre-HRT days. Similar to everything else in those days, I internalized my feelings and tried to move on as deep down I knew change had to happen.

During that time, I almost outed myself to my roommates in the apartment I was staying in until I left for basic. On one trip home, I brought back one of my favorite outfits along with a wig and makeup to Bowling Green. One day when I left, I assumed I had hidden my belongings well enough to not be discovered but I was wrong, and one night when I was preparing to surprise a male visitor to the apartment, after I went to work of shaving my legs and face, I checked for my clothes, and they were gone. I certainly thought, for a while change was coming then it was not. No one said a word to me and very soon, I was off to play soldier anyway so nothing else mattered.

Back in those Vietnam War days, basic training was an intense team building experience when a few drill sergeants needed to try to get a bunch of raw recruits ready for possible combat. During this time, the only way I could keep my girl self-alive was to bury her deeply in my subconscious mind, So, when we were on long forced marches around Ft. Knox, I made sure I thought about the well-being of my girl and the changes we would go through after my military service was finished.

Looking back at the three years I served; the time now seems like a blur and when I was discharged, I came really close to making a big change then by picking my future wife up at the airport cross dressed as my transfeminine self. I even went as far as hinting as such when I wrote her a letter. (Remember those?) Again, my male self-won out and I decided not to, and my big change had to go back to coming again. I did not have the courage yet to face my gender truth and took the easy way out and went back to accepting all the male privileges I had earned.

It was not until I became a parent and had reached my thirties did change to me become a real priority. I will always remember my thirtieth birthday being my hardest because I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do with my life. Sure, I had employment and financial issues to be aware of but again the underlying big elephant in the room was what changes would have to happen with my gender. I knew it was never going to be easy to present well as a woman, and I needed to work extra hard to earn whatever passing grades I could achieve in the public’s eye. Once I made the mental changes to proceed, much of my work became cosmetic in nature.

I was able to move the elephant aside and set about learning what it would take me to really live life as a transgender woman and not just be the “Pretty, pretty princess” my second wife called me. As change set in, I learned very few trans women or women at all live the life of a princess and I had a lot of work to do to put my male life behind me.

The last major change I put myself through was the hormonal one when I started gender affirming hormones. The HRT allowed me to sync up my external and internal selves and live a more productive life as a transfeminine person.

Dressing for Success

 

Image from Mohammad Nadir
on Unsplash. 

During my earliest days when I was forced into being a boy, anytime something negative or even challenging happened to me, I would run home and seek solace in my soft and colorful feminine clothes.

Soon I called the cross dressing I was doing, dressing for success. Mainly because I felt better as I did it. The sad part was, very soon the feelings of gender euphoria went away, and I was back in my unwanted male world where I was expected to succeed. During that time in my life, I was able to barely keep my head above water and still slowly improve my feminine basics in such things as the makeup arts. I guess all those hours of watching my mom apply her “face” as she called it, came back to help me. This was the 1950’s when women took their appearance much more seriously than today. All women were expected to dress for success.

As I barely stayed afloat with my cross-dressing challenges, it soon became more evident to me that there was much more going on with me than met the eye in the mirror as I tried to appreciate myself. It was about that time, when the internet showed up, and I was able to research terms such as gender dysphoria and transgender. Suddenly, I discovered who I might be and certainly found I was not all alone. It all started to make sense why my urge to cross dress never really seemed to go away. It was always with me in the back of my mind.

Soon, as I joined the world as a novice transgender woman, dressing for success largely depended on if I could go out into the world and blend in. I began the easy way by trying my hand with shopping mall clerks who for the most part were only nice to me for the money I needed to spend so I could be more fashionable and feminine. From there, I branched out to challenge myself by stopping to eat lunch and face servers one on one to see how I did. I did well, and very rarely did I have to run home and wonder what I did wrong and go back to my gender drawing board. I did not realize it but what I was doing was replacing my mirror time with time in front of the public. A very valuable learning experience as I discovered venues such as coffee shops, bookstores and even antique malls where I could shop and relax.

Each experience helped me to learn more about myself as a transfeminine person and then dress for success from it. To quit being so flamboyant with my wardrobe and wigs became my new goal as I was settling into my new life. People began to know me quicker, so I needed to be better in my approach to dressing for success. I learned I did not have to lose any of the enjoyment I experienced as a trans woman; I just needed to follow the lead of the cisgender women around me. I did not necessarily have to dress down for the grocery store and up when I mixed with the professional women out for a drink, but it helped me to feel better and relax. Plus, heels and hose would have certainly not worked when my lesbian friends, and I got together.

At times I even took my dressing for success to the extremes to be able to judge what the public was thinking of me. I used to wear my best sunglasses so that strangers could not see my eyes and tell I was looking at them, but were they looking at me? And one of my favorite “props” to use when I went out to be alone was my cell phone which I always had handy when I turned out to be the only woman at the bar. That way, I was trying to show anyone else I had someone else on the way, and I was saving their seat.

To be sure, dressing for success as a transgender woman was always a more complex process than doing it as a man. From undergarments to accessories such as jewelry, wigs and purses, women naturally lead a more layered life which can be reflected in the way they dress. I certainly had many more compliments on my outfits as a woman than I ever did as a man. Primarily, it was because it was something men never do and often, many cisgender women used compliments as simple conversation starters when they were curious about me.

As with all cisgender women, dressing for success is something transgender women must learn. The problem being we come from such a vastly different background to do it. Almost none of trans women had the benefit of peer pressure and a mom to guide us through the initial makeup process. Our workbooks were blank when we started our gender journeys. Playing catchup was not a fun game to play for me as I found making up my face was different than painting model cars. Most certainly, dressing for success was a lifelong experience for me.

 

 

Gender Dreams

 

Image from Greg Pappas 
on UnSplash.

This morning when I woke up, I took a moment to remember the sadness I felt when I got up in the morning and I was not a girl. I had the same sad realization, I was still a boy and nothing had changed. Plus, it is important to point out that I had no other dreams when I was young such as being a professional athlete or a doctor. All I wanted was to be a girl. I figured I was the only boy in the world who felt that way.

It was on those mornings when I needed to realize I was still male, and I had a long trip to make if I ever was going to change it. As my life became more complex, so did my gender dreams. Sometimes, I could not wait until I went to sleep to see what sort of dreams, I would have that provided me a respite from the days activity of being a man.

It was not until I decided to come out of my closet and test the world as a transgender woman, did my nights began to change. Replacing dreams with action was often a very scary proposition. But it was one thing I had to do if I was ever going to see if I could make it to a new transfeminine world at all. Would the public ever come to a point where they would accept me as more than just a man in a dress. Out in the world to be laughed at. If I could never make it past that point of being a cross-dresser, did I want to go on any longer and forget all the dreams I had. I finally discovered there was much more to being a woman than appearance and it was just my male ego trying to influence me.

Still, as I struggled along in my novice cross-dressing years, my gender dreams began to change with it. Instead of just wanting to be a woman, I started to dream of how it would be to live as an attractive woman and not have to worry about my presentation so much. I think it was because I was becoming more confident in myself, and my subconscious self was adjusting to the new me. More or less, I was reacting to the kinder, gentler world I was in as a transgender woman, and I loved it.

My main problem then was, could I make it to my dream when it became a reality. I was frustrated when I thought I could see the finish line and it was taken from me due to unknown transitional experiences such as what would I do about supporting myself if and when I made the decision to go from a male world to a female world. And would I need to prepare to be lonely the rest of my life because the possibility of someone loving and accepting a trans woman were exceedingly rare at my age of sixty. I was fortunate and exceeded all my dreams when I was financially able to take an early retirement and support myself and found my wife Liz (or she found me) on an online dating site. At that point forward, I had painted myself into a corner and I had no real reason to not follow my dream of being a transgender woman full time. Because I had finally faced up to myself and realized I had always been trans parttime, even though I could not share it fulltime with the world. 

As I faced up to reality, my nighttime dreams began to change also. Slowly my old male is disappearing from my subconscious too, He is being replaced by new dreams with me living as my true, authentic self. Maybe it is because he was pushed out of his final hiding place in my mind. Whatever the case, I was not sad to see him go.

I wonder now, what my childhood boy would think if he could see me now. Doing much more than just hiding in a gender closet waiting for brief moments to escape and explore. I am sure he never thought he would have the ability or confidence to be who he always wanted to be. Not an athlete or a doctor, just myself…a woman. I certainly had to come a different direction to claim my prize but maybe by doing so, I appreciate it more because it was never just given to me.

The boy I was would have never known his dreams would have never turned out like this, and being happy would not have been so far away also when she was playing with the girls. Where she always belonged.

Off or On the Transgender Highway

 

Image from David Valentine
on UnSplash. 

When I seriously pursued my male to female life as a transgender woman, along the way I was fooled into thinking I was on a smooth fast interstate highway.

What happened was I was stuck on slow-moving two-lane gender roads and going nowhere for years. Plus, I needed to keep an eye out for potholes bumps and sharp curves. Too many times, I led myself down dead-end streets when I transitioned. The entire process just slowed me down and I lost decades in the process. Then I discovered one of the main problems I had was my old male self was exercising too much influence on my life. My main example I always use were the ill-advised fashion choices I was making when I tried teen girl outfits in my thirty-year-old testosterone poisoned body. I was guilty of not looking around and noticing what other women my age were wearing or what I could wear to disguise the defects I inherited with my body. Even though I was always going to be a big woman, there were plenty of other women my size to blend in with in public. While I am not a huge proponent of age women’s fashion, I am a proponent of looking good and not shocking the world.

One way or another, as I was able to put most of the fashion mistakes behind me, I was able to speed up a little and enjoy the new small gender towns and cities I always wanted to visit as a woman when I was a man. There were to be no more miserable vacations when all I thought about was when I could cross-dress again in front of the mirror. I was far beyond that point. I had developed the confidence I needed as a transfeminine person to take the next two-lane highway ahead and see where the journey took me. More than anything else, the mini trips taught me I could not go to sleep on my gender journey as I was risking my life as I knew it at the time.

In many ways, I was used to the pressure of discovery all along since it had started when I was so young. I just ended up accepting the pressure as a way of life for me if I was ever going to achieve my dream of living as a transgender woman. It all started with the threat of a psychiatrist visit when I was quite young, all the way to losing my family and job if I was discovered later in life.

Perhaps the biggest mistake I made on my road was trying to internalize the entire process and going through the infamous ill-advised purges of everything feminine I owned. It turned out to be one of the dead-end roads I was facing when I found I could not purge my deepest feelings of wanting to be a woman. In no time at all, I was back on the road and ready to try to get on the gender interstate. Many times, I was guilty of taking the wrong exit and having to go back to start all over again when I made the wrong choice of a venue and tried out a red neck, rightwing venue when I should not have. One time, I even had the cops called on me when I visited one venue, I was not familiar with.

After being told to leave, I quietly did and regained my composure up the street at a place where I knew I would be accepted and got back on the road. Once my transgender life began to speed up, I was able to stay on the interstate gender highway thanks to a lot of help from my cisgender friends who taught me more than they ever knew about discovering myself as a trans woman. More than anything else, they propelled me forward towards my dreams. They validated me to a point where I did not have to hide myself anymore on a bunch of dark deserted two-lane roads and stay on the well-lit interstates. I mention them a lot because without them, I could still be hiding my true transgender self away in my dark closet.

It took me so long to transition, I wore out a couple of vehicles along the way, but I finally did it. Regardless of the naysayers who said I was not trans enough to make it, or I passed as a woman out of sheer willpower. I accepted my life for what is was finally at the age of sixty and did what I should have done years earlier. Stood up for myself and started gender affirming hormones (HRT) which was like getting a new sports car to drive on the gender interstate. Again, I was able to leave a lot of negative people behind and live the dream I always wanted to live, as a transgender woman.

 

 

 

Planting the Gender Seeds

 

Image from Sebastian
Demitro on UnSplash.  

After my initial experiments with my mom’s clothes, I blamed the cross dressing and started to plant my gender seeds, as I wanted to be feminine all the time. Sadly, for me, it took me decades to realize the seeds were already planted and were growing. All along, I had an idea that was the case, but I was afraid to do anything about it. Mainly, because I had no one to turn to for understanding. The times were very dark in the 1950’s when I was growing up for any understanding of gender issues at all. As I always mention too, I grew up as the oldest son in a male dominated family, so my goals were set for me as a boy.

It wasn’t until much later in life that I had served my time in the military that I was able to water my gender seeds and watch them grow. My first realization I could come out of my gender closet came in the final months of my time in Germany in the Army when I went to a Halloween party thrown by the nearby hospital staff dressed completely as a woman with shaved legs and all. The biggest moment came weeks later when I admitted to my closest friends, my costume was not a costume at all. I loved to dress as a woman and was a transvestite as we were called back then. In the 1970’s.

The best part was, my friends could care less and more importantly, the higher up’s in the Army never found out and I was honorably discharged after my three years were up on time with no problems. Coming out to my friends really set me up for success in growing more and diverse gender seeds…until my mom came along and tried to kill them. I was emboldened by my recent success in coming out and one night I decided to tell her. She responded the expected way with shock and the added offer of paying for a trip to a psychiatrist. From there, the discussion rapidly ended, never to be brought up again for the rest of her life. I knew deep down I was not crazy and did not need a mental health professional to tell me I was.

With that knowledge, my gender seeds continued to develop, even though they were in the darkness of my closet for the most part. Until I could stand it no longer, the only times I ventured out in public as a novice transgender woman was the occasional Halloween party and business trip I went on. Somehow, I was able to smuggle my feminine wardrobe, wig, and makeup past my wife and enjoy a night out on the town when I arrived there. For the most part, the experiences I went through helped me to nourish my transgender seeds and come away with a better understanding of where I fit into the world as a transfeminine person.

Even though I was becoming more successful in chasing my dream to ever live as a trans woman, I kept finding I had a long way to go. In order to see my seeds finally bloom, I needed to have the cisgender alpha females I encountered to accept me. They closely examined me and let me in to play in the girl’s sandbox. To get there, I needed to tend to my seeds which were still blooming. The mistakes I made all centered around when I was overconfident about where I was headed and I got burnt. Fortunately, I was able to reach down and pick one of my flowers and offer it as a peace offering. The flower was enough to move my life along.

My garden proved to me to be worth all the effort I put into it. All the tears I suffered early on when I went out into the world as a transfeminine person were used to water my seeds and watch them grow. Plus, all the time and effort I put into learning the makeup arts after looking like a clown in drag came back to help me. I took the time also to plant diverse seeds which helped me when I encountered difficult situations. Which I never knew where and when they were coming from.

It turned out that I never had much of a green thumb in my male life, but a flourishing trans thumb when it counted the most. It was quite the discovery for me when I discovered how layered and complex the women’s world I was in. I also benefited from the careful job I did of planting and protecting my young seeds. On occasion, I regret the time it took them to grow, but in many ways, I was the prisoner of when I grew up in the dark days in the pre-internet era. But taking the extra time to become strong and thrive in my new life was worth it. As I said, the seeds were there all along, all I needed to do was nourish them.