I am so in love with my children. What else can I say? They light up my life. Fill my heart with joy. And every other cliche saying you can think of to describe true, unconditional love.
The weather this past week has been gorgeous. When I took Ella and Lucan outside to play in the fallen leaves, I couldn't help but bring along the camera to capture those precious moments.
Here are a few beauties:
Looks like today is going to be another warm Fall day. I'm planing on taking our family to a little creek about 15 minutes from home. And you bet I'll be taking along the camera again!
Kaitlin Rose Lives
Activism - Holistic Parenting - Natural Living - Home Birth - Work From Home
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
I am Whole
I am the proud creator of Bring Birth Home, a website, blog and Facebook page dedicated to helping women and their families discover the option of birthing at home.
I am also the founder of ViSalus Moms, a site in which I share information pertaining to my home based business as an independent distributor for a network marketing company.
As passionate as I am about both topics, there is of course much more to little 'ole me.
That's where this blog comes in.
Kaitlin Rose Lives is about all of the above and much, much more. If you're a follower of either previously mentioned blog, you can to be surprised by what I will reveal here. This is the whole me, sharing my life, with you.
I am also the founder of ViSalus Moms, a site in which I share information pertaining to my home based business as an independent distributor for a network marketing company.
As passionate as I am about both topics, there is of course much more to little 'ole me.
That's where this blog comes in.
Kaitlin Rose Lives is about all of the above and much, much more. If you're a follower of either previously mentioned blog, you can to be surprised by what I will reveal here. This is the whole me, sharing my life, with you.
Friday, October 8, 2010
My Secret Life - A Story Few People Know
This story begins on the night of my eighteenth birthday. I invited everyone I knew to my party.
I got my first tattoo that day. An infinity symbol on the back of my neck. I showed it off to everyone as they arrived, announcing my grow-up-ness to the universe. I'm eighteen! And I got a tattoo today! Cliche. But I didn't care.
Mandie was one of the guests that evening.
I had invited her after we met briefly at a party a week or so before. It was a spur of the moment thing. But she didn't have plans, and even arrived early. We consider that night to be the first of what was to be our three year relationship.
Now, you may be wondering, what do you mean by relationship? Do I mean friendship? Yes and no. Moreso no. I mean, partnership. Significant. Intimate. We were girlfriends - literally.
From that night on we were practically inseparable.
Things got serious fast. Less than three months later, I moved in. I met her parents, she met mine. Big words like "forever" were spoken.
We entrenched ourselves in the lesbian scene in Kalamazoo for about six months before Mandie began to get anxious. She needed a fresh start. Something new.
So we moved to Florida and stayed with her mom. Unfortunately, we chose the wrong time of year to move and when the ungodly heat of July hit, we decided to leave. Go somewhere less hot and conservative.
West. We'd head to the Northwest. A real, no safety-net included adventure. Our two door Honda civic was packed to the brim as we said goodbye again after making a pit-stop in Michigan on the way.
Since we were absolutely broke and decided to camp overnight rather than rent rooms, my Dad, (bless his heart) gave us a bunch of his camping equipment to use along the way.
This is my one-of-a-kind tale. The photos I'll look back at throughout my life and shake my head in disbelief. Did I really do that? Move all the way across the country at 18? Is that really me - my shaved head accommodating that too thin frame? I'll be hardly recognizable.
But I treasure my story.
I learned so much. About myself, about Mandie, and about the LGTB community in a way that no other straight person might understand. I lived those three years as a lesbian, and then as something all together different. It is the understandings I gained during that time period of my life that inspires me to write my story now, so that someone might understand the struggles I endured and the valuable lessons that came as a result.
Mandie wasn't really a lesbian.
A few months into our time together, she confided in me that deep inside, she really felt like she was a man. She believed she was born the wrong gender. In her heart she knew she was a man, not a woman. Mandie was transgendered.
I listened to her story with my all - all my inexperience, nativity and innocence. I understood as much as I could (which wasn't a lot) and genuinely supported how she (he) felt. Knowing this fact didn't keep me from moving forward with the relationship. In fact, our bond strengthened.
When we moved to Washington, Mandie wanted to change her name. No one knew us there. Her life became a blank slate. Although it would be 2 years later, Mandie finally did take the plunge and changed her name to Isaac, which is what I will refer to him (her) from now on out of respect.
I discovered, first hand, the kind of stereotyping, discrimination and complete lack of respect people in same sex relationships encounter during my time with Isaac.
We encountered some really rough, sad and angering moments. Because I was feminine, I was often and blatantly hit on by men. It was infuriating. Why, because I was an attractive woman, did that mean men should think I "should" be straight? Why, because Isaac was a masculine woman (in their eyes), should he be treated as inferior and not deserving of me?
We were angered over it. We cried over it. The injustices that came with being gay.
Now you're probably wondering what's going on here - I'm not a lesbian!
No, I'm obviously not a lesbian as I now have two young children with a man. It's complicated. And would really take far too long to unravel and dissect the years leading up to my choosing a lesbian lifestyle for 3+ years. The fact of the matter is, I undoubtedly considered myself a lesbian at that time.
As I grew older, I uncovered and came to terms with and overcame a lot of emotional baggage (particularly having to do with my very rocky relationship with my father). I realized that while I wasn't technically a lesbian, I was able to fall in love with either sex - I guess if I had to label myself, which I don't care to do, I'd be bisexual.
It was too difficult to call myself bisexual with Isaac. Insecurities ran deep. Very deep. His last girlfriend had cheated on him with a man and eventually left Isaac to be with, and eventually marry, that same man. A devastating blow, strengthening Isaac's fear that he would never live up to be what "real" man is.
I supported Isaac through his name change and his second coming-out to family and friends when I was 20 years old (and 2,000 miles from home). The weight I bared was evident - I was virtually emaciated at 93 lbs.
In July of 2006, I was able to make a week long solo-trip home.
My mom was so worried about me. She begged me to stay. I told her a few details of my life at the time - how Isaac's insecurities transformed themselves into fits of jealousy, distrust and often outrage. He was skeptical of everything I told him. If I took as much as a second glance at an attractive man, Issac would become irate, shutting down for a short period of time before exploding at me in a fury. While I was never psychically abused, I'd had furniture thrown at me. I was manipulated and controlled. But I stayed because I thought he needed me. I was literally all he had.
Upon arriving back to Washington, I entered a full-blown depression. I wanted so badly to move back home to the safety of my family. Over the course of three months, I slowly convinced Issac to move back to Michigan. Finally, in early October, he agreed.
Coming back to Michigan as "he" rather than she and with a new name was a really tough transition for Isaac. Although I was just beginning to come to my senses how unhealthy our relationship had become, I felt like he needed me now more than ever.
Rather than break it off, we continued to live together. I told my mom I knew what I was doing.
Isaac couldn't find a job. He struggled between writing his new name on an application vs. Mandie. Would he sacrifice who he was or give in to what would be more acceptable - living a false life as a lesbian again? I couldn't blame him for refusing to do that. So I worked and he didn't (which did not go over so well with my mom).
By Christmas, I got the courage to break up with Issac, but I didn't tell him the truth as to why.
I told him as a lesbian, I didn't feel it right to be with a man - that even though I loved him, I was no longer attracted to him. I even went so far as to say I respected him too much as a man to stay with him because he still had a female body. I'd rather be with a woman. He wasn't happy, but he understood. I was terrified to tell him the truth.
The truth was, by this time I had realized I was attracted to men again. I developed a huge crush on a regular customer at the coffee shop where I worked. I thought if I told Issac he would not only be devastated beyond repair, I was afraid of how he'd react towards me.
As time went by, Issac became more and more possessive.
We still lived together and only had one car. Because it was "his" car, he began regulated when and where I drove. It started out as him tagging along for one reason or another - he wanted to spend time with me or had an errand to run. He began interrogating me each time I came home after going out alone. Where did I go? Why was I gone so long? Who did I talk to? Eventually, at it's worst, I was only allowed to take the car to and from work.
I knew something had to change, but I was scared to deal to take action. The fights we had escalated from yelling to Isaac's occasional suicidal rants. On the worst night, I literally knocked him down and out by hitting his head against the wood floor to get the knife out from under his throat. I pulled it away by the blade as it sliced into four of my fingers.
<deep breath & exhale>
The guy at the coffee shop and I began talking more and more. He asked me out for a beer but I declined. I couldn't. Two months and a few coffees after my shift later, I finally agreed to a date. I would meet him at the open-mic - my regular Monday night hangout.
Then I had to find a way to go to open-mic alone. Isaac always came with me. Man oh man do I thank god Isaac didn't own a lie detector test. It would have used it on me that night. He was so mad that I didn't want him to go that I almost didn't go. My secret date was waiting there for me when I finally arrived.
It went well. Very well. He asked me out again for that Friday night and I couldn't resist. Saying yes was painful. My stomach was in a tight knot (I later understood my stomach had felt that way for nearly 3 years).
By Wednesday, I couldn't take it any longer. All I could think about was trying to figure out a good enough lie for Friday night. What believable story could I tell Isaac to get the car? I knew I wouldn't be able to get picked up.
Nothing was good enough. It had to be the truth. I took a walk with our dog and called my grandmother, who lived just up the road. Told her what I was about to do and to make sure that she was available in case I needed help or intervention. She was on board 100%.
Isaac reacted rather well...he told me he was leaving and began to pack. Then he began to figure eight back and forth between crying and yelling and calming down to smoke a cigarette and pack some more. It took about 3 hours for him to fill up his car and finally leave. He left and came back a few times to yell at me more, but I stayed strong and held firm. When he called me, I didn't answer, until he finally gave up and stopped trying to reach me.
It was over.
I locked the door and all the windows, lit some candles and drew a very hot bath. I didn't cry. I had never felt such relief in my life - before that or since. I called my mom. She was so happy.
So that coffee shop guy? He was Eric, my life partner and the man I have since had two children with.
He has been there with me through the growing pains of getting accustomed to a heterosexual relationship again. It has been a freeing experience, full of growth and the astonishing discovery of how strong I am to have survived such an ordeal at a tender age. Eric has been there to remind me multiple times to let down my shoulders - I had a bad/nervous habit of tensing and holding my shoulders up high, just below my ears. I finally broke it when I re-learned how to relax.
I wanted to tell you this story for two reasons:
1. Amidst this often heated time period of heated debate over same-sex marriage, I want my gay, lesbian, transgendered and bisexual brothers and sisters to know that I understand. I want you to know that while many of the people you walk past on the street will look at you like you don't belong, that you are in some way not right, I know your pain. I've been there. It really, really hurts to be looked at and spoken to that way. Don't give up. Don't let it get you down. There are people out there who get it and love you very much just the way you are.
2. I've always been afraid to tell people my story. I suppose in part because of the treatment I received when I part-took in a same-sex relationship, and partly because if I'm not anymore some could claim that I never really was one (some homosexuals can be like that). I fear judgment on both fronts. But I need to not be afraid of those possible judgments anymore. I should be more vocal about my past - I'm proud of it. I wouldn't be where or who I am today had it not happened.
If you read this post in it's entirety, I sincerely thank you. It feels scary to be so bare.
Today Isaac takes hormone replacement therapy and has gotten his breasts removed. He is happily married and lives in his hometown of Jackson, MI.
Please do not share without permission.
I got my first tattoo that day. An infinity symbol on the back of my neck. I showed it off to everyone as they arrived, announcing my grow-up-ness to the universe. I'm eighteen! And I got a tattoo today! Cliche. But I didn't care.
Mandie was one of the guests that evening.
I had invited her after we met briefly at a party a week or so before. It was a spur of the moment thing. But she didn't have plans, and even arrived early. We consider that night to be the first of what was to be our three year relationship.
Now, you may be wondering, what do you mean by relationship? Do I mean friendship? Yes and no. Moreso no. I mean, partnership. Significant. Intimate. We were girlfriends - literally.
From that night on we were practically inseparable.
Things got serious fast. Less than three months later, I moved in. I met her parents, she met mine. Big words like "forever" were spoken.
We entrenched ourselves in the lesbian scene in Kalamazoo for about six months before Mandie began to get anxious. She needed a fresh start. Something new.
So we moved to Florida and stayed with her mom. Unfortunately, we chose the wrong time of year to move and when the ungodly heat of July hit, we decided to leave. Go somewhere less hot and conservative.
West. We'd head to the Northwest. A real, no safety-net included adventure. Our two door Honda civic was packed to the brim as we said goodbye again after making a pit-stop in Michigan on the way.
Since we were absolutely broke and decided to camp overnight rather than rent rooms, my Dad, (bless his heart) gave us a bunch of his camping equipment to use along the way.
This is my one-of-a-kind tale. The photos I'll look back at throughout my life and shake my head in disbelief. Did I really do that? Move all the way across the country at 18? Is that really me - my shaved head accommodating that too thin frame? I'll be hardly recognizable.
But I treasure my story.
I learned so much. About myself, about Mandie, and about the LGTB community in a way that no other straight person might understand. I lived those three years as a lesbian, and then as something all together different. It is the understandings I gained during that time period of my life that inspires me to write my story now, so that someone might understand the struggles I endured and the valuable lessons that came as a result.
Mandie wasn't really a lesbian.
A few months into our time together, she confided in me that deep inside, she really felt like she was a man. She believed she was born the wrong gender. In her heart she knew she was a man, not a woman. Mandie was transgendered.
I listened to her story with my all - all my inexperience, nativity and innocence. I understood as much as I could (which wasn't a lot) and genuinely supported how she (he) felt. Knowing this fact didn't keep me from moving forward with the relationship. In fact, our bond strengthened.
When we moved to Washington, Mandie wanted to change her name. No one knew us there. Her life became a blank slate. Although it would be 2 years later, Mandie finally did take the plunge and changed her name to Isaac, which is what I will refer to him (her) from now on out of respect.
I discovered, first hand, the kind of stereotyping, discrimination and complete lack of respect people in same sex relationships encounter during my time with Isaac.
We encountered some really rough, sad and angering moments. Because I was feminine, I was often and blatantly hit on by men. It was infuriating. Why, because I was an attractive woman, did that mean men should think I "should" be straight? Why, because Isaac was a masculine woman (in their eyes), should he be treated as inferior and not deserving of me?
We were angered over it. We cried over it. The injustices that came with being gay.
Now you're probably wondering what's going on here - I'm not a lesbian!
No, I'm obviously not a lesbian as I now have two young children with a man. It's complicated. And would really take far too long to unravel and dissect the years leading up to my choosing a lesbian lifestyle for 3+ years. The fact of the matter is, I undoubtedly considered myself a lesbian at that time.
As I grew older, I uncovered and came to terms with and overcame a lot of emotional baggage (particularly having to do with my very rocky relationship with my father). I realized that while I wasn't technically a lesbian, I was able to fall in love with either sex - I guess if I had to label myself, which I don't care to do, I'd be bisexual.
It was too difficult to call myself bisexual with Isaac. Insecurities ran deep. Very deep. His last girlfriend had cheated on him with a man and eventually left Isaac to be with, and eventually marry, that same man. A devastating blow, strengthening Isaac's fear that he would never live up to be what "real" man is.
I supported Isaac through his name change and his second coming-out to family and friends when I was 20 years old (and 2,000 miles from home). The weight I bared was evident - I was virtually emaciated at 93 lbs.
In July of 2006, I was able to make a week long solo-trip home.
My mom was so worried about me. She begged me to stay. I told her a few details of my life at the time - how Isaac's insecurities transformed themselves into fits of jealousy, distrust and often outrage. He was skeptical of everything I told him. If I took as much as a second glance at an attractive man, Issac would become irate, shutting down for a short period of time before exploding at me in a fury. While I was never psychically abused, I'd had furniture thrown at me. I was manipulated and controlled. But I stayed because I thought he needed me. I was literally all he had.
Upon arriving back to Washington, I entered a full-blown depression. I wanted so badly to move back home to the safety of my family. Over the course of three months, I slowly convinced Issac to move back to Michigan. Finally, in early October, he agreed.
Coming back to Michigan as "he" rather than she and with a new name was a really tough transition for Isaac. Although I was just beginning to come to my senses how unhealthy our relationship had become, I felt like he needed me now more than ever.
Rather than break it off, we continued to live together. I told my mom I knew what I was doing.
Isaac couldn't find a job. He struggled between writing his new name on an application vs. Mandie. Would he sacrifice who he was or give in to what would be more acceptable - living a false life as a lesbian again? I couldn't blame him for refusing to do that. So I worked and he didn't (which did not go over so well with my mom).
By Christmas, I got the courage to break up with Issac, but I didn't tell him the truth as to why.
I told him as a lesbian, I didn't feel it right to be with a man - that even though I loved him, I was no longer attracted to him. I even went so far as to say I respected him too much as a man to stay with him because he still had a female body. I'd rather be with a woman. He wasn't happy, but he understood. I was terrified to tell him the truth.
The truth was, by this time I had realized I was attracted to men again. I developed a huge crush on a regular customer at the coffee shop where I worked. I thought if I told Issac he would not only be devastated beyond repair, I was afraid of how he'd react towards me.
As time went by, Issac became more and more possessive.
We still lived together and only had one car. Because it was "his" car, he began regulated when and where I drove. It started out as him tagging along for one reason or another - he wanted to spend time with me or had an errand to run. He began interrogating me each time I came home after going out alone. Where did I go? Why was I gone so long? Who did I talk to? Eventually, at it's worst, I was only allowed to take the car to and from work.
I knew something had to change, but I was scared to deal to take action. The fights we had escalated from yelling to Isaac's occasional suicidal rants. On the worst night, I literally knocked him down and out by hitting his head against the wood floor to get the knife out from under his throat. I pulled it away by the blade as it sliced into four of my fingers.
<deep breath & exhale>
The guy at the coffee shop and I began talking more and more. He asked me out for a beer but I declined. I couldn't. Two months and a few coffees after my shift later, I finally agreed to a date. I would meet him at the open-mic - my regular Monday night hangout.
Then I had to find a way to go to open-mic alone. Isaac always came with me. Man oh man do I thank god Isaac didn't own a lie detector test. It would have used it on me that night. He was so mad that I didn't want him to go that I almost didn't go. My secret date was waiting there for me when I finally arrived.
It went well. Very well. He asked me out again for that Friday night and I couldn't resist. Saying yes was painful. My stomach was in a tight knot (I later understood my stomach had felt that way for nearly 3 years).
By Wednesday, I couldn't take it any longer. All I could think about was trying to figure out a good enough lie for Friday night. What believable story could I tell Isaac to get the car? I knew I wouldn't be able to get picked up.
Nothing was good enough. It had to be the truth. I took a walk with our dog and called my grandmother, who lived just up the road. Told her what I was about to do and to make sure that she was available in case I needed help or intervention. She was on board 100%.
Isaac reacted rather well...he told me he was leaving and began to pack. Then he began to figure eight back and forth between crying and yelling and calming down to smoke a cigarette and pack some more. It took about 3 hours for him to fill up his car and finally leave. He left and came back a few times to yell at me more, but I stayed strong and held firm. When he called me, I didn't answer, until he finally gave up and stopped trying to reach me.
It was over.
I locked the door and all the windows, lit some candles and drew a very hot bath. I didn't cry. I had never felt such relief in my life - before that or since. I called my mom. She was so happy.
So that coffee shop guy? He was Eric, my life partner and the man I have since had two children with.
He has been there with me through the growing pains of getting accustomed to a heterosexual relationship again. It has been a freeing experience, full of growth and the astonishing discovery of how strong I am to have survived such an ordeal at a tender age. Eric has been there to remind me multiple times to let down my shoulders - I had a bad/nervous habit of tensing and holding my shoulders up high, just below my ears. I finally broke it when I re-learned how to relax.
I wanted to tell you this story for two reasons:
1. Amidst this often heated time period of heated debate over same-sex marriage, I want my gay, lesbian, transgendered and bisexual brothers and sisters to know that I understand. I want you to know that while many of the people you walk past on the street will look at you like you don't belong, that you are in some way not right, I know your pain. I've been there. It really, really hurts to be looked at and spoken to that way. Don't give up. Don't let it get you down. There are people out there who get it and love you very much just the way you are.
2. I've always been afraid to tell people my story. I suppose in part because of the treatment I received when I part-took in a same-sex relationship, and partly because if I'm not anymore some could claim that I never really was one (some homosexuals can be like that). I fear judgment on both fronts. But I need to not be afraid of those possible judgments anymore. I should be more vocal about my past - I'm proud of it. I wouldn't be where or who I am today had it not happened.
If you read this post in it's entirety, I sincerely thank you. It feels scary to be so bare.
Today Isaac takes hormone replacement therapy and has gotten his breasts removed. He is happily married and lives in his hometown of Jackson, MI.
Please do not share without permission.
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