{"id":32,"date":"2014-10-11T06:30:00","date_gmt":"2014-10-11T06:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/typingmonkeys.com\/ait\/?p=32"},"modified":"2018-02-21T21:32:03","modified_gmt":"2018-02-22T01:32:03","slug":"day-19-not-so-good","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/day-19-not-so-good\/","title":{"rendered":"Day 19: Not So Good"},"content":{"rendered":"

I catch my train back to BWI in the late afternoon and arrange to meet with my oldest son on the train for a weekend home from college. It’s been over a month since I dropped him off for his sophomore year at Goucher College, and it’s great to see him again.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was hoping to get home before sharing my news, but patience has never been my forte, so we drop our bags off in my car at the parking garage and I tell him I have some things I need to talk to him about.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now let me preface this by saying that my oldest son is the one person I was sure <\/i>would be okay with all of this. He is a terrific kid. Very empathic and always there to give someone a hug when they are the least bit down.<\/span><\/p>\n

You might see where this is going. And you’d think by now I would have learned my lesson on setting expectations. But no, that’s not how I roll.<\/span><\/p>\n

I start pacing and tell him first about my move to NYC. All good.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I tell him about hiding my stuttering for 25 years. Again, all good.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I tell him I’m transgendered. Aaaaaand… not so good.<\/span><\/p>\n

I am really caught off guard. This is not at all what I was expecting. And I start to get a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.<\/span><\/p>\n

But I put on a brave face and tell him that he needs to react how ever he feels. We all have visceral reactions to things in life. This isn’t a time to pretend and tell me what I want to hear. This impacts him. This impacts our relationship. This impacts his life. Be honest. It’s okay.<\/span><\/p>\n

Well, he tells me, I have a few trans friends at Goucher and I’m just not comfortable around them.<\/span><\/p>\n

Good, good. Don’t hold back.<\/span><\/p>\n

I try to explain that it’s not like Tootsie.<\/i>\u00a0That girl mode entails things like yoga pants, long skirts, clogs. Nothing outrageous. He doesn’t need <\/i>to see me in girl mode. I’m still mostly in boy mode anyway, etc, etc. etc.<\/span><\/p>\n

By now, we’ve been in the garage for a while, and I realize we should probably be driving home. We continue our conversation in the car, but this is not going at all how I had envisioned.<\/span><\/p>\n

That said, I genuinely appreciate his honesty. And I’m sure he’ll come around. Right?<\/span><\/p>\n

Empathy. Hugs. Just give it time.<\/span><\/p>\n

We make a pit stop at the mall on the way home because the padding on my glasses broke off earlier in the day. We walk by a slew of women’s clothing stores, and I point out blouses and leggings that I might wear — again, nothing too showy. Nothing too age inappropriate.<\/span><\/p>\n

He seems to start to get it, but there’s still a palpable distance between us.<\/span><\/p>\n

We finally get home in time to pick up my youngest from work at the movie theater, and after a late dinner and an episode of Doctor Who, I find myself absolutely exhausted and emotionally spent. I tell the boys I’m beat, and head up to my bedroom, explaining they should spend some time catching up. Brother-to-brother time. And that gives me go-upstairs-and-try-not-to-lose-it time.<\/span><\/p>\n

I close the door of my bedroom behind me and tell myself, hold it together. Give him time. And for god’s sake, get some sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

I crawl into bed, close my eyes and wait to see what tomorrow will bring.<\/span><\/p>\n

Note: When I began transitioning in 2014, I was known by my nickname DiG, which sufficed until I learned my mom had chosen Jennifer had my birth gone differently. So for historical sake, I leave my posts and podcasts as originally conceived, but know that my name is and apparently always was Jen.<\/i><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I catch my train back to BWI in the late afternoon and arrange to meet with my oldest son on the train for a weekend home from college. It’s been over a month since I dropped him off for his sophomore year at Goucher College, and it’s great to see him again. I was hoping […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blog"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=32"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":544,"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/32\/revisions\/544"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=32"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=32"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/possiblegirl.com\/sotheresthat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=32"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}