There’s one feeling I’ve just never been able to shake. It’s the feeling of being alone, and I don’t know why exactly it needs to be like it is. I believe that the Lord has a purpose for the trials He permits us to suffer. So there’s a reason He’s allowed me to feel this way. I just don’t know what the purpose is.
The reason I feel alone is I’m kind of trapped between two societies that don’t mix well together. On the one hand, there’s the Transgender community. It would be easy to mix with that group. There was a time I wished very much that I could join with them in sharing makeup and clothing tips and coaching each other through the ”Transition.” At one point, when I felt particularly alone, I started looking at some message boards frequented by transgendered people. Their stories were very compelling, because they tracked with mine so very exactly. I found that many of them had been through the same things—feelings that started from the time they were very little; periods when they successfully pretended that it wasn’t there, but knowing that it was ever present. And what they all had in common was they reached a point where they decided, “I’m going to stop fighting it and just be who I am.” And what stories of rejoicing they had! It was like a Testimony meeting where people couldn’t get to the podium fast enough. All had the same message: “Reconciling my appearance with my mind has finally made me happy.” And I believe that they mean it. Indeed, I still have no reason to doubt that they are, for the most part, content with their new lives, in contrast to the turmoil they felt before. So it would have been very easy for me to fall in with that group.
On the other hand, there is the Church. It is a fellowship of Saints. It is a gathering place where we talk of Christ, we teach of Christ, and we rejoice in Christ. It is a place where we learn of the eternity of the soul and rejoice in the eternity of the Family. We hear the voices of living prophets regularly, and I always look forward to the next General Conference. We are led by them, as they are led by Jehovah Himself. I have felt the Spirit witness this to me so strongly that I know it as surely as I know my own name. We have been taught truths that are precious and rare among most of the world. And beyond that, my own study of the Gospel has led me to great rejoicings in the personal revelation I receive. I crave the blessed feeling of being touched by the Spirit. I yearn always for that moment, when my soul sings and I know I have been taught some truth. I have received many Priesthood blessings, and have been privileged to provide many for my wife and children. I have administered and taken the Sacrament, and have remembered the Lord’s suffering in Gethsemane and on the cross. I love the principle of service that bring us together as saints. I love to enter the Temple, where the Spirit can whisper sweet comforts to me without competing with outside voices.
So there I am. Socially, I feel a bond—a kinship even—with those who have shared my struggle. I have yearned to associate with them; to share with them my many long strugglings, and have somebody say, “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I have been through that too, and I’m okay now.” But there is a chasm between me and them, and it is one that I cannot cross. In those circles, it is very unpopular to believe that SRS is contrary to God’s will. Many will profess Christian faith, believing that there is no conflict. I even once found a group consisting of both former and current members of the Church. But even among those, the general consensus was that the Brethren were naive and ill informed on gender issues. Those who had not outright left the Church and declared it a sham simply believed that the Brethren would eventually “come around” on the issue. Some tried to reconcile the faith of their Fathers with their own gender orientation by declaring that they were in fact simply women (I am generally referring to “Male to Female” individuals; there are certainly some going the other direction, but I have seen far fewer of them). I shared my life story with one of these groups, and received several sincere, hearfelt entreaties to join them in their happiness and stop denying who I was. In those circles, to openly declare that I believe that the Brethren are inspired, that they speak for the Lord Himself, and that my ability to sire children rather conclusively determines my eternal gender identity, is to invite scorn and hostility. The sentiment is understandable. To openly declare such a thing is to challenge the basis on which they have built their own identities. For them to acknowledge such a thing would be to invite the kind of tearing dilemma I felt myself.
On the other hand, if we are perfectly honest, Mormons, as a group, are not always the most accepting group for people who are “different.” This is not a criticism of the Church itself; rather, it is an observation of a common shortcoming among the Saints. We are, at least externally, a largely homogeneous people (though I suspect that if we could see into each others’ souls, I would not be the only one with a secret pain). We tend to look similar to each other, act similarly, and speak in common (sometimes trite) phrases. The sentiment is somewhat understandable, if not excusable. Here are individuals who have had the Spirit plainly testify to them that certain things are true. Here is a group of people who have had the same experience. We all look and act largely the same, therefore, those who do not look and act like us must be “wrong” somehow. Like I said, the sentiment is understandable, not excusable.
So I must admit, rather sadly, that I have not felt entirely comfortable sharing my feelings with many people in the Church. I suspect that if I did, it would be hard to have a normal relationship with many people in my ward (to say nothing of those I have responsibility for in my calling). I suspect that I would be a subject of gossip among some, since as a people, I think gossipping is one of our greatest sins. That’s not to say that everybody would respond like that—perhaps it would not even be a marjoirty. I have shared my story with a few carefully-selected people, and they have all been supportive and uplifting. But it would be enough to make going to Church unpleasant. And Sunday is my favorite day of the week. I don’t want to change that.
So on the one hand, I feel like there’s a group of people that I can be perfectly honest with about my GID, and they will be very accepting of me as long as I hide my belief in living Prophets. On the other hand, I feel like I can be completely honest about my testimony at Church—indeed, I have shared it over the pulpit and in classes many times—but I don’t feel comfortable being open about GID.
All taken together, I sometimes feel like I don’t really “fit in” anywhere, which is a lonely feeling. I know I’m not the only person in the world with GID. There are millions. I know I’m not the only member of the Church with GID. I’ve read many of their stories on discussion boards, talking about growing up with this painful secret, serving a mission, even marrying in the Temple. Unfortunately, they generally end with “And then I decided to stop fighting this, and just ‘be myself.’ So I am working towards/have had SRS.”
I cannot fathom that I am the only member of the Church with GID who has chosen to hold firm to my faith. But if they are out there on the blogosphere, I haven’t found them yet. I have searched occasionally, but I avoid making it a too-frequent habit. What I do find tends to point me down roads I have seen before and that have seemed enticing, and that I have ultimately had to willfully reject.
That’s one of the reasons I started this blog. I thougt, if there is no blog where I can discuss GID and my faith, maybe I just need to make it. Maybe if somebody else runs the same searches I have, among all the results he or she will see this, and think, “Here’s what I’ve been looking for.” So far, that person has not come along.
The people who have come along have been supportive and uplifting. They have been kind and understanding, even if they don’t have the same challenges. I’m grateful for that experience. And if against all probability and expectation, if contrary to the astronomical odds, there’s nobody else out there who is both gender confused and committed to staying with the Church, this has nevertheless been a good experience. I have finally been able to open up about things I have wished I could shout on the rooftops. I have been able to tell my whole story to anybody who cares to listen. I have been able to lay out all of my feelings and progress, and finally feel like a whole person—a person with GID and with a firm testimony. And while I still hope that other person shows up someday, even if he or she doesn’t, I don’t feel so alone. Because one of the most important things I have learned is I’m really not all that different. The trial itself may be different, but the principle is the same. We must lay our burdens on the Savior, and He will carry them for us. If we do that, it doesn’t matter if we call it GID, or SSA, or Death of a Spouse, or I Can’t Find My Pet. His yoke is easy and His burden is light.
“I suspect that if we could see into each others’ souls, I would not be the only one with a secret pain”
This is absolutely true! Every person (LDS and non) struggle with hidden pains that make us different than anyone else. I have personally gone through this and learned it is best to be very selective in whom I share things with. It used to be focused upon the worry of judgment/gossip, that you have listed. However, my main reason now is that I have moved beyond it, and I do not want to allow my past or my struggles to continually haunt my progress. If God does not remember our sins any longer after repentance, then there is no reason to allow anyone else to do so. And even if we have not “sinned” per say, we should not be labeled by our struggles. The sum of who we really are is not limited to the pain, trials, or addictions we may carry, but rather we are the sum of the soul we were before birth plus the process of our earthly education. Life is about taming the “natural man” and woman in all of us. Mortality brings complicated passions and desires of the flesh.
The people I know closest in this life each carry a serious heartache or pain. Anorexia, depression, schizophrenia, alcoholism, pornography addiction, cheating spouse, gambling addiction, financial crises, death of a loved one by suicide, severe illness, and the list continues… all of which are subjects that make people very uncomfortable to discuss and do not fit in well with the ideals we hold up for gospel living.
Even the very best and brightest LDS and non-LDS people can make the most inappropriate comments or judgments because they just don’t understand the complicated issue. And you cannot truly understand anyone’s load unless you carry it or have walked next to someone helping them carry it. None of these issues are WHO these people are, but all of these people have grown from the struggle of dealing with the issue.
We know that none of these conditions will go with us after we die, therefore it is not WHO we are. From an LDS perspective, the same holds true with GID. We do not believe it is WHO you were before this life, and we do not believe it will continue afterwards. You may be one of the few so far who accept and understand that. It is just a part of your earthly experience. I carry my own deep struggles, personally along with those closest to me I have mentioned. I have felt very much alone in the unique situation of my life trials. However, I have been led to those who struggle with similar issues and have been able to help them and listen to them from an experienced standpoint. I am positive the Lord will do the same for you. Your blog is beautiful. I know that there is a reason you have created it. Perhaps it is only for your personal growth and to promote understanding and compassion in others. Perhaps it will be the “If you build it, they will come” principle. Either way, please don’t get discouraged. None of us are really alone in our trials. As you have already expressed, no one understands these feelings of ‘loneliness in the crowd’ better than our Savior. And only He has carried our specific burdens.
I have some things I’d like to share with you, but not in your comments section. I think they might help you feel less alone. If you’re comfortable, please send me an email address at which I may contact you.
one_bewitched@yahoo.com
Thank you both for visiting. Smantha, I sent you an e-mail. I look forward to hearing from you.
MoSop, I think you really articulated something that I didn’t articulate very well. When somebody new moves into our ward (which happens pretty frequently—we have a fairly transient ward), I don’t want somebody to point me out and say, “That’s Brother X. He wants to be a woman.” I doubt there is anything I could do or say that would ever overshadow that initial impression. But I am a complex person. There is a lot more to me than just three letters. You can’t say GID and suddenly know everything about me. I love my wife and kids. I love the works of Bach and Isaiah and Victor Hugo. I love the judicial opinions of Justice Hugo Black. Above all, I love my Savior Jesus Christ. The three letters GID do not tell you all that. And while those feelings have been important in defining who I am, and have led me to learn some very important lessons, you are right that in the resurrection, the torment will be gone. So if I define myself wholly in terms of that torment, I have defined myself by a transient, mortal factor, which would leave me as empty as those who find their identities in this world’s goods.
Wow, the timeliness of starting this blog couldn’t be better. Since I was very young I’ve wanted to be a woman. It’s not something I decided to feel, but I feel it anyway. It’s a feeling that is stronger at times, weaker at times, but it never really goes away. It’s frustrating. Sometimes I cry because I wish I could be a woman. Sometimes I cry because I wish I didn’t have to feel this way at all. I feel pretty sure that even though the process would be long and hard, SRS would ultimately help me feel like I belong. Then I could feel like myself–like who I am on the inside is the same person as who I am outside.
That would all be well and good, but because of my faith (I’m also Mormon) I can’t in good conscience tell myself that SRS is the answer. I’m sure there are GID members of the church who feel like they are held back by the church or by their family from being who they are. I’m not that kind of person. While I don’t know much about official church policy and so forth, I feel in my soul that God doesn’t want me to go through SRS. And that’s really hard. It scares me to think that in the future sometime when I feel especially weak and vulnerable, I’ll come to believe that I should seek SRS. It scares me that every day of my life I’ll have to choose between loving God and being a woman.
I’ve only told three people about how I feel (if you don’t count this one occasion of anonymous blog posting). I haven’t told anyone in my family. I haven’t spoken to a bishop before. Should I? Are there ways to satiate my feelings without doing something contrary to God’s will? I never thought I would ever hear of other believing members of the church who have GID, and I’m guessing the number of people is small anyway. It’s a relief to know that there are not only other people with GID, but there are also church members who choose to be true to their faith while still feeling GID.
Sweetisthepeace, thanks for starting this blog.
Danny, thank you so much for leaving that comment. You have no idea what a tremendous relief I feel to finally find somebody who feels like I do. I really wish I could give you better, more complete answers. I hope you read some more of my posts. I think you will be able to relate to a lot of my feelings.
The best advice I have is, yes, you probably should talk to your Bishop—not because you have committed some sin you need to “confess.” Please don’t feel guilty just for feeling this way. It is not a sin to have an affinity for feminine things. But it’s important to always be anchored in the Gospel, and by anchored I mean, knowing those things that the Lord has specifically forbidden. If you counsel with your Bishop, he can help you understand what the official Church policy is on some things, and then you have a framework within which to work. Within that framework, I truly believe that it’s okay to try and see what helps you. I mentioned a few things in this post that help me. I’m not saying that all (or even any) of these things are right for you. That’s between you and the Lord. The most important thing is turning to the Savior and trusting in Him. I can honestly say that one of the most important and hlepful things I have done is intense daily scripture study every single day in an unbroken chain for about two years. Among other things, that has allowed me to receive personal revelation so that I can recognize the voice of the Spirit. This helps me to know, by that same voice, what is acceptable to the Lord and what is not in my individual circumstances.
Please come back often. I would love to hear about your journey and your progress. It means so much to me to finally feel like somebody can read these pages and really say “Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve felt.”* If there is anything you don’t feel comfortable posting for the world to see, you can e-mail me at sweetisthepeace gmail com.
*That’s not to say I don’t appreciate the beautiful comments from MoSop, CP and Samantha, who have all had some beautiful, insightful and encouraging things to say here. And of course, there is Fife who has also been a great find, and who I hope to hear from again. I hope all of you keep coming back and leaving your comments.
Another thing, Danny—if you are married, and if your wife is not one of those three people, please share this with her. One of the biggest mistakes I made was keeping this to myself for so long. I was surprised that when I did tell my wife, one of the strongest negative feelings she had was not about the GID itself. She felt betrayed that I had kept it a secret from her for so long. And while I won’t pretend it’s easy, it has been a great blessing to not bear this burden alone anymore.