“Karma Chameleon”
Written by: A.A.P.
Inspired by the former life of: A.M.P.
Chameleon: Definition of chameleon
1. 1: any of a family (Chamaeleontidae) of chiefly arboreal Old World lizards with prehensile tail, independently movable eyeballs, and unusual ability to change the color of the skin
2. 2a : a person who often changes his or her beliefs or behavior in order to please others or to succeed. “She’s a political chameleon.” 2b : one that is subject to quick or frequent change, especially in appearance. “Tourmaline is the chameleon of the gem kingdom because it can assume virtually any color.”
As I begin to contemplate and explore the theme of ‘Change’, a rush of thoughts and even butterflies run through me. It’s as if, I relive moments and experiences of my former-self…again and again. Perhaps they’re friendly reminders to show me how far I’ve come? As I tap into my minds eye…let me first preface this with where I began & where it all started.
Kindergarten, Age: 4 1⁄2, Sex: Female, Hometown: Bell, CA. The backdrop: Woodlawn Elementary School. I don’t have many memories of my first year of school. I know I wasn’t the smartest or gifted. I was, at best, an average student. I made friends quickly and loved to play outside! I remember my teachers, Ms. Garate and her T.A, Ms. Cabral. Both brunettes and both so beautiful to me. This is where my sexual exploration began. I recall having crushes on both of them. (I wasn’t loyal at age 4 — I learned that quality much, much later in life). I used to offer shoulder massages to the T.A. I’m sure she thought I was ‘being cute’ & ‘precocious’, but, it was the only way I knew to initiate ANY contact with her. It wasn’t long after that I first ‘came out’ to my Mom as ‘Gay’. I remember vividly, sitting on the couch with her, in tears, because I was about to disclose my ‘secret’. I couldn’t muster the courage to say it out loud so I scribbled on a piece of paper: “Im gay” and handed it to her. She read it and laughed quietly to herself. She embraced me & assured me that I was ‘too young to know’ and I would ‘figure it out when I was my brothers age’, whom, at the time was maybe 12 or 13. Boy, I couldn’t wait until I was his age so I could come back to her and say “See! I was right all along!” In the meantime, I waited not-so-patiently.
To say that I was sexually mature at a young age would be an understatement. I have no clue where it came from. It was as if I was born with this ability to know who and what I was and what to do about it. To me, this highly sexualized way of seeing the world was ‘normal’. This is how I lived life as a young child, pre-teen, teenager (oh boy!) and adult.
I stumbled awkwardly through grade school and Jr. high school. Didn’t have my first kiss (with a boy) until 7th grade, but, could hardly keep track of all the girls I liked! Again, loyalty, not a strong suit for me. All the while, wishing I could snap my fingers and: A) make these feelings disappear and have ‘normal’ relationships like all my friends did or B) I’d somehow meet another girl like me and together we’d run off into the sunset. Neither took place. In fact, it wasn’t until High School, at the end of my freshman year that I would finally have all my emotions confirmed. I was a Lesbian.
The 90’s were much friendlier to me in the ‘girls’ department. (Thank you, Madonna!) By the end of 1991, I began my own sexual revolution & by revolution, I mean, I slept with or fooled around with any female with a pulse. I was 14. Too young to know better and have any self respect but old enough to know that I all those emotions and crushes and fantasies needed to be released. I began going to 18 and over (and sometimes 21 and over) gay nightclubs. I flirted and kissed women 10 years my senior. I was in heaven!
I attended the first LAUSD sanctioned Gay and Lesbian Prom in 1994. I was on the Ricki Lake Show in ’96 or ’97 where I publicly came out as Lesbian. I was on a roll and a force to be reckoned with…or was I? My adult me can look back and see the pattern of self-destruction. I dated friends and ex’s of friends. I used this new thing called the ‘internet’ to meet people and even party lines (remember those?). Needless to say, I never had a healthy relationship or even an honest one. You see, all those years of being this liberated Lesbian — I still wasn’t being 100% honest with myself. There was this yearning deep inside my gut…an itch I couldn’t scratch. I knew I liked women and calling myself a lesbian was the best thing that fit at that time, but, underneath it all I knew I really wanted to be a Boy. A smelly, hairy, obnoxious, pee in the snow, PEE STANDING UP, ball scratching, penis wielding boy! But, this was the 90’s and although the gay movement was just picking up steam, being Trans was not on that list. It was OK to be gay or lesbian or better yet, Bi-Sexual!! But, trans? No way. I mean, I went through all that trouble telling the world I was a Lesbian…how could I back track on that?! How would I even begin to tell my parents, family and friends?
The 90’s slowly melted into the 2000’s. I gained and then lost 100 pounds. I went from being a ‘butch’ lesbian to a ‘femme’ or ‘lipstick lesbian’ about as often as the weather changed. I began dating and sleeping with men. Well, really, only one guy…remember that Jr High kiss in 7th grade? We reconnected 10 years after high school and gave it a go. Honestly, not the smartest thing to do, but, I REALLY wanted to live a ‘normal life’ and he was nice and familiar. He knew I was a lesbian. He didn’t know that: I was flakey, a hot mess, emotionally unstable, an alcoholic and sometimes drug user, a liar and secretly transgender. Needless to say, this ended before it ever began. To you, I say: I’m sorry for all the emotional rollercoasters I put you on. I’m happy you’re happy. I hope you’re happy for me too.
2013 began like all the previous 13 years. I was employed in my career of choice and doing Ok for myself. I was making decent money, lived alone and was independent and dating a woman who wasn’t exactly ‘the one’ but, was just as unstable as I was, so, yeah, match made in lesbian heaven. I had been exploring via Instagram the idea of ‘transitioning’ and being transgender (all secretly, of course). I went to the Gay Pride Festival in San Francisco and even marched in the parade (one of the largest in the country). It was fucking fabulous! (said in my best gay man voice). It was that weekend, being surrounded by literally thousands of other folks just like me, that pushed me to finally stand up for myself and who I really was. This was the catalyst that got me here to be the man I am today. The end of that year came to a close with me attempting suicide (unsuccessfully, in case you’re reading this and wondering) and shortly after, getting sober. This all took place in the first 2 weeks of December. By Christmas, I was single, newly sober and saying my last good-byes to my Grandmother. This would be one of the hardest times of my sobriety, but, I survived and lived to tell about it.
At the start of the following year, still maintaining my sobriety, I permanently broke it off with my girlfriend, lost my job and was broke. It’s now February 2014 — I’m 37, 2 months sober, unemployed and single. On paper, I’m officially a ‘red flag’. “Danger, Wil Robinson!” Hardly feeling like the ‘man of the hour’, I spend most of my time marathon-watching 30 Rock & Mad Men on Netflix and applying for virtually any job. It was during one of these days of half- watching TV and scrolling through instagram that I stumbled across this woman…nay, a Goddess! I took one look at her photo and literally stopped what I was doing. Cupids arrow hit the mark and I was instantly smitten. This beautiful sight for sore eyes would eventually be my friend on IG…then we’d email….then text…then talk on the phone…then meet in person. 2 years later, we were married. (I love you, babe — You’re the bees knees!)
So, you’re probably thinking…”what’s all this have to do with change?”
It was during the end of about 9 months of dating my wife (then GF) that I, for the first time, came out as transgender — to my girlfriend, who thought she was dating a lesbian, in front of strangers. Ok, maybe not ‘strangers’, but, they were doctors and a couple of interns who technically didn’t know us from Jack. Awkward? Yes. Shocking? Absolutely, just ask my wife about this moment. We both cried — in front of these strangers, but, this was Day 1 of my new life. Day 1 of being the Man I always wanted to be. I was relieved.
Within a few months, I was getting instructions on how to inject the testosterone, how often and how much. I was so nervous & excited about this next chapter — but what doctors and other trans men will tell you is that everyone experiences their own ‘side effects’ from taking ‘T’. There aren’t decades of research or books or literature that give someone a ‘play by play’ of whats about to happen. I was told that I’d grow more body hair and likely experience male pattern baldness. I could get mood swings or experience moments of rage. My sex drive would increase…(imagine a 13 year old boy during puberty). Pretty basic stuff, in hindsight, to what I actually experienced. The first 6 months went well — with a few awkward moments of crying because my hormones were so out of whack. I suddenly wanted to lift heavy objects and grew increasingly impatient, especially when driving. What I didn’t see coming was the complete mental-disconnect that was beginning to happen. It began with my wife…then friends & family…then myself. I was still friendly and somewhat social — but, I no longer cared to talk or gossip, or hear about anyones day. I was direct and to the point and I expected the same in return. I was very much “in my own head” — constantly thinking, constantly figuring out my next move. Fall 2016 brought even more changes: I finally had “top surgery” or a full mastectomy. I remember taking off the bandages and looking at a flat chest — there were no tears or words of wisdom in that moment, it just…was. I returned to work 10 days after surgery — much too soon to properly heal (both physically and mentally).
I kept pushing forward because I felt that was the ‘manly’ thing to do. Work hard, support my family financially and keep my struggles to myself.
By October, my marriage was barely hanging on just shy of our 1 year anniversary, I relocated out of state for work (without my wife) and now had to come to terms with losing my older Brother and mentor. More changes that changed me.
The decision to write this was to hopefully start the healing process. To mentally reconnect. To become human again. This experience has brought me to my knees. I don’t know what the future holds, but, I hope somewhere in these paragraphs is a story of strength and courage. Regardless of your opinions, we all put our pants on one leg at a time.
It’s unclear why life happens in the sequence that it does. We’ve all heard the sayings: “Everything happens for a reason” & “When one door closes…”. That’s all grand when youre not in the midst of life changing moment, but, how are we supposed to react and respond when you feel like giving up, when you realize this shit takes WORK?! What I’ve learned and continue to learn is that life is change. Life is about evolving and changing your colors depending on your environment or if you feel safe. We are all chameleons…
