Pyschology103

Part of that well rounded nursing career education is taking a Pysch class. After all the therapy sessions this should be an easy A, right? Well then again prolly not. Though I can say I looked forward to the class from the perspective of being a participant from the other side of the couch. Well in some ways the class is what I expected and in others it is not. The school work is typical of my other classes, too much work in too small a period of time. But I adore being here so its really not any real problem. I just need to remember I work also and need to schedule less class credit hours per semester.
Back to Pysch,, So the lectures are a pain,,boring hours spent writing as fast as I can and trying to answer the profs questions here and there as I can add something coherent to the fray. We had two journal articles that required some reading, thought and a reaction paper to be written.
The first was a hassle to get started because like any unknown that first step is a lil difficult. It was on Red Shirting, holding a child back intentionally to let them mature a bit more. When I was married we had done that to my daughter so I did have some personal experience to draw from when it was time to format my paper and spill the words onto paper. The second reaction paper has got my undivided attention and I have yet to really start on it. A reaction paper is not suppose to be written in the first person. This one is going to be hard to separate my feelings on
It is a article called Being Brenda. A well know mess of a story about twin boys and a circumcision that all but left one of them with no penis. The story is tragic beyond words. Dr Money was the John Hopkins Professor who thought gender was neutral at birth and could be taught or conditioned. This is about where my blood goes to boil and I think about bad things to do to him if there was a dark alley about and we happened to met there. The family was treated like lab animals and Dr Money has never been held accountable for his actions and the treatment that the boys and their parents endured. Brenda shifted back to a boy because that ultimately was what he was. Eventually years later he committed suicide and the family history has remained tragic to say the least. Dr Money is still a emeritus Professor at John Hopkins. Somehow that sure just doesn't sit well with some folks, Me being one of them.
Somethings are apparent rather quickly,,,like boy we have come a long way since 1967. The thought that gender can be taught is really not credible anymore ( if it ever was) and rather that we are what we identify as be it male or female. This being regardless of birth gender or sexual alignment.
I said we have come a long way towards being understood but we are still somehow close to 1967 in many ways. Socially we are accepted in some places while not in others. Medically we are still in the infancy of understanding our anatomy and biology,,,the stuff that makes us as we are. Donna Rose mentions in her blog a Aussie article that shows that yes we are indeed who we say we are. The American medical population as a whole doesn't embrace those findings as does those that make the laws to make us all equal. We continue to evolve as a group but being held back by others who would rather we go away again quietly. How sad. I'll write that reaction paper with a bit more of my soul in it very soon.

School ,school and yet more school

I was coaxed one day when complaining about my lot in life. I had settle down on the warm sandy beach of the catamaran club where I keep my fiberglass girlfriend to chat with a member who was looking for conversation. He was a older man who has seen up and downs in his life and asked me how I was doing. It was one of those mind spin days of worrying about how I was going to make ends meet. I replied that I was worried what the future held and that my job was tied to a industry that is cyclical in nature and appears to be in decline. I shared that I was beginning to get very concerned with the trends I saw developing in our market area. It wasn't that I'm not grateful for where I am in life,,but the state of where I am going has me a bit more then concerned I told him. No one at the cat club knows of my funky past life and I think he just sees me as a single mom finding her way with her son.

He said, Don't wait for things to get worse. Reinvent yourself, I have many times and learn to change with the times and don't be afraid to start over. I threw all the objections I could think of at him,,,its all I know, I'm to old, I have a house, mortgage and son to worry about. I regret dropping out of college looking for the easier way. He never lost the smile on his face,, So you think you different? You the only one who ever started over again? (well different? damn right,,lol ) I hate being on guard all the time for that slip that would out me.

He asked,, So what would you like to do that you have never done before,,,something that you have pondered but never took serious maybe. I pushed the warm sand about for a bit with my hands and said, I would love to be a RN nurse. My family is full of them and first responders. I am a firefighter already and have toyed with the idea of doing first aid with the squad like my mom and sister.

But I,m too old to start that now and ya know I have bills to pay. He smiled and said, Do it, do it now that is a wonderful career. Your not to old and you have the right drive and personality,,,Do It.

I sat for a bit longer avoiding the fact that the sun was fading, it was time to get my catamaran back in her cradle on the beach and tied down. I thanked him for the conversation and made off to take care of my sailboat. I walked away with a seed planted in my mind.

Well that was two summers ago and I have just about finished my first year in nursing school. Me the girl with the funky past, too old to start over, the college drop out. The worries I had about the economy and the industry I am in were real for me and many others. I struggle more today then back then, how I need tuition money also besides the rest. I have never worked so hard in my life. My free time is study groups, homework, library, yet more study, reviews, study and tests. I juggle work full time and college the same way. Taking care of my son, home and yes leaving a very small bit of time to breath and remembering to enjoy the gift of being me, finally.
ps: I wouldn't change a thing I feel so alive.

Beginnings

I am not sure where or when the first day of "knowing" began. It was certainly something that was always a integral part of my being. Often I was referred to by my mother as Sensative "him" when I wasn't acting quite like a male my age. So, I grew up not fitting but never sure why. Sure I was playing the birth role well but never sure why I felt the way that I did. Didn't everyone feel this way??? Certainly they did and it just wasn't talked about because it was, well you just don't talk about feeling odd. Or then again,,did they think like me too? Looking back,,that would be a solid no they didn't. The timing of all this coming out stuff was left to cook for many years. More then I wish it had been allowed to do so. The carnage of the coming out period is one I keep tucked away in my soul as a reminder to myself to never do to myself again or to those that where family ,friends and co-workers. The real beginning of that slow train out of the station was facial feminization surgery with Dr O. I believe that was the stepping off place of a one way ticket to what my future as a woman might hold for me. There were of course the sessions of drama at work months before after being outed by a female coworker and confidant. That out letter to the masses at work. The letter that once read by management was a non reversible message. It certainly wouldn't be received well to come back at a later date and say,,Oh by the way I was just kidding,,funny joke eh? So, my visit to San Francesco was to forever make things right was the point I call the beginning. I will forever feel love and gratitude to the wonderful care received at Cocoon and for the care and dedication of Dr Ousterhout and his staff. It was truly the time that the caterpillar morphs into a butterfly. The time makes the memory of pain from surgery fade away to a unpleasantry. But the memory has been replaced to one of excitement of what is yet to be and the New Beginning. I experience a zest for life these days, each new one unfolding yet a new chance for opportunities of what will be my legacy, my mark the piece of me that remains long after I have left this world.