Be Patient and Understanding

           I went to a specialist the other day that I knew was a religious man. I was anxious and nervous about how he would react to finding out I was a transman. I actually drank quite heavily the night before because I was an anxious wreck. Once in the doctor’s office I had revealed my Trans status to two nurses and had great reactions; very supportive. I was still nervous for the doctor, however. The doctor came in and checked my breathing under my binder and asked to check my genitals. Before I could say anything, the nurse interrupted to tell the doctor that I was Trans; his response was surprising and unexpected, “yes, so? Do you have a problem with that because I don’t? Do you Danny?” The biggest smile crossed my face and all my anxiety flew out the window.

            The doctor and I had a great meeting and talked about my concerns. Before any of this though he looked right at me and said, “I apologize ahead of time if I mix up pronouns. I mean no disrespect but reading the charts can be confusing when both genders are mentioned so please don’t be upset with me because I never mean to offend.” My respect for my doctor increased beyond what I thought was possible.

            I in turn was not offended. I was in fact grateful for his honesty and open mind. I felt compelled to let him know that I’m a difficult person to offend, and I understand that transgender individuals can be a new or frightening thing for some people. My doctor was absolutely amazing, and I look forward to working with him; not only because he is the best in his profession but also because of his sincere compassion and understanding for something that can be a difficult subject.

            My interactions with my doctor got me thinking about my family, particularly my parents. I grew up in a wonderful Mormon family. My mom stayed home to raise my brother and I for most of our lives. The few years she did work, she was home shortly after we got home from school. My dad worked hard to provide for us. He works in the oil industry and has made his way up through the chain along with his brother, my uncle. Mom served as my Young Women’s leader and was a teacher in church and also worked in the genealogy library. Dad served in many priesthood callings including a counselor in the Bishopric during my high school years. My parents always accepted and fulfilled their church callings. However, they never accepted any job or position without consulting every member of the family about how they felt and how it would affect each individual. I never appreciated that as a child but looking back it was an important lesson I subconsciously learned.

            My dad always worked hard off and on the job. His family was his world, and he loved us and continues to love us more than I can possibly understand. We had everything we needed in life and MANY extra wants, gifts, and experiences. Dad built us a cabin where we would spend many weekends and vacations. He taught us to hunt, fish, bike, snowmachine, drive, chop firewood, camp, survive in the world and in the wilderness.

            My parents also taught us our religion. Growing up I really enjoyed church, and I learned a lot growing up in the church. I learned values and the joy of serving others. While religion was a big part of my inner conflict, it is the foundation of who I am and how I have come to appreciate life.

            So why am I writing this you may ask…. Well, I am just beginning to rebuild a relationship with my parents, and it has taken me years to stop blaming them and start admitting my own part in the discontinuity of our relationship. My parents are great people, and I was blessed with a great childhood; yet I spent years in depression, self-harm, and suicide attempts. How and why did this happen?

            Religion was a huge part of our lives; actually, it WAS our lives. Yet when I came out as a lesbian and a few years later as Trans, I was upset and aggressive towards my parents for not understanding and accepting me. I was unforgiving and blamed my parents for our dwindling relationship. I bashed them and complained. I wanted them to love and accept me despite their religious beliefs and lifestyles. I demanded instant change from them and never once thought about what they were going through as parents. Looking back I realize I was being selfish and hurtful when I should have tried to help them through my transition.

            It has been a long road and a difficult journey. Many nights I cried for my parents because I missed them so much. I wish I had been more understanding and compassionate with my parents all those years ago. I wish I could have been honest with them and talked openly about what it would mean to transition. I wish I had given them more credit: despite my being a complete pain in the ass, they continued to love me; even when I was purposefully hurtful and disrespectful to their face.

            We have to remember that while our transition is about us, it affects everyone around us. We have to remember to be patient and understanding with others, especially with our families. My parents were suffering at the idea of losing everything we had dreamed of for my future- they were losing their daughter. My relationship with my parents only started improving when I stopped being demanding and angry. I had to be patient and understanding while forgiving them and myself. People respond better to love and patience than they do to negativity. Don’t be offended by others or their behaviors. Teach them; then just be patient and understanding.