Testosterone Prescribed-A Body Destroyed, But A Mind Awoken To Save Others
By, Scott Newgent
Before I begin, I would like to prefix by asserting this post is raw, real, and comes from a place of total honesty. We all have the voice inside our head that helps us navigate through the world. The internal voice we have can be denied if we are embarrassed and lifted when it's correct, "I always knew I was right about, blank." We all know about this little voice, and this little voice is ours to hold close inside the confounds of our minds. I am sharing my little voice with you, not out of weakness; it comes from a place of power.
I cannot tell you with indefinite why kids are claiming to be trans at a staggering rate, but I do know a huge part has to do with the fact that we still do not accept gay and lesbians yet and we need to. With that said I will share my why and why I believe a vast preponderance of children and adults are looking to change genders. My insight is not scientific, which comically mirrors the whole definition of what transgender is. You might be laughing, but as someone who has medically transitioned, my laughter is nil when it comes to what we are doing to a generation of children.
I don't believe Jesus Christ was the son of God, but that doesn't make me a version of their evil. I don't think children should be anywhere near surgery or hormones; I don't care how transgender they believe they are. I believe the LGBT community has back-handed the entire world into being scared of anyone with opposing views to speak up. But, I understand the cause, the pain, and the generation after generation of misery that gays and lesbians have been put through.
Before I transitioned, I imagined I was known as the Lesbian Devil to Lynette's Catholic Family.
I believe people are born gay, but I also think some are conditioned into same-sex attractions. I might have been manipulated to change my sex by an extremely religious Catholic woman that could not accept her sexuality, but that doesn't mean genuine transgender people are not walking among us.
I have always been able to reach both sides; I was blessed with the ability to see both sides of situations. But, I didn't understand that inside an organization, a belief, a person you hate is common ground and someone beautiful, and someone scared and someone who has something useful to say. I didn't understand the gravity of this until I transitioned.
Lesbian Devil to Straight Man Saint
They wanted to do an intervention on a woman that finally understood why she never felt the love she saw her friends experience. Until me, she just went through the motions with her husband, hating her life and feeling apathetic only to come alive with that first sip of wine. She laughed and giggled and seemed like the most festive person, but she was a tragic person once you knew her. Such a depressed person, a woman that looked like the sunshine of light, was the darkest human being I had ever met.
I listened to her phone calls with her family spewing hate, begging her to be cleansed and get rid of her demons, manipulating her with the thought of spending an eternity in hellfire for loving me. I can say that I despised those people, Lynette's people, with every fiber of my being. I just knew that they understood the suffering they were causing for her and didn't care. Convinced they only wanted the perfectly straight, elegant Catholic woman to go back to a husband she didn't love, never loved, they didn't care that she was pained, they didn't care that she couldn't breathe without me. They cared only for getting her back into a box that made them feel comfortable.
I transitioned to take that all away for her. I never met Lynette's family as a woman. I met them for the first time as Scott; Lesbian Devil to Straight Man Saint. I was so scared to meet them for the first time, and all I kept hearing was the torture I heard when Lynette was speaking to them, and I wanted to despise them, I wanted to hate every last one of them and, I just knew I would.
But something happened.
My far reach to see both sides became vastly wider. I loved them, each one of them, and I still do. I watched them with their children, and I learned about their lives and struggles and the belief system they had; I began to understand why they felt the way they did. The experiences they had mixed in with the blessing of being born normal became who they were. They couldn't comprehend what Lynette was feeling; how could they. I loved them, and I still do, and I miss them, but I went from Lesbian Devil to Straight Man Saint to just something they laugh at while eating dinner, the weirdo transgender person.
I remember the night like it just happened. I remember the air, the desperation. I wanted to save her from what she went through the years prior when she was trying to break free from the hold that her former life had on her. I wanted to save her from her soon to be ex-husband's phone calls that lasted for hours and hours pounding and pounding her with terror about how it was going to feel on her flesh when Satan burned her into a never-ending pit of fire. I wanted to save her from looking at me and being so in love but conflicted with the voices in her head.
I never in my life experienced someone told over and over repeatedly that he was not loved like a wife should love a husband and that she loved another and wanted another, but he refused to let go, even though he knew it was going to cause her nothing but pain. Mark did not care.
It was cruel.
Some in her family thought of it as a devoted Catholic man, but from the inside looking out, it was self-indulgent and hurtful, he was breaking her down, and he knew it. He didn't care; he wanted her back; she filled a locality in his life that gave him pleasure. He refused to succumb, and he was prepared to do what it took, even if the cost was splitting her limb from limb. He would do what he had to do to get what he wanted, so the barbaric device to pull her limbs off was strapped down, administered, and once the pulling began, it didn't take long for him to succeed. With the help of her family spewing words and creating an image of her flesh burning in a fiery pit of hell, it was useless; she could not resist.
Lynette would start conversations with her husband on the phone standing, shoulders back, and ready to take on the challenge. Within 15 minutes, her body would shrink into a ball in the corner of a room, and the self-sufficient woman echoed a child browbeaten; it was awful to watch.
The dynamic was as if I was watching a child scolded by her Dad. Lynette didn't speak; she just listened, nodded, and agreed with submissive shrieks of recognition. Lynette wasn't even able to discuss; she just winced and endured the storm until Mark felt his position made, and opinion received as the only truth.
It was a strange relationship with her ex-husband; it wasn't normal; it matched the movie "The Truman Show." All the streets decorated, the clothes ironed, but something was missing, and Truman knew that just as Lynette did.
Lynette had doubted her ex-husband's sexuality before they married but threw it aside. He fit; he fit all the things to look for in a man. They were not in love, and they had never been, and you don't desire what you never knew you had. So, the years went on, and Lynette recommenced to question his sexuality and found his characteristics off but never stirred because to discover someone on an intimate level, you must have the ability to be intimate. Affection was absent, always was with their marriage.
Before I first left Lynette, before my transition, when I was still Kellie, something hit me like a ton of bricks. You see, I had endured the numerous conversations with Lynette, by her side listening to Mark's phone calls, her family, and I felt as battered as she did. But our love was beyond what I had ever experienced. Most would have left much earlier, but neither one of us could part. This morning, as Lynette leaned over and rested her head on my chest, she glanced into my eyes. I noticed how calm and at peace she was, embracing me. Her eyes, her brown eyes, I have never understood how an uncomplicated color like brown could make eyes dance as she could with hers. As her breathing began to rhythm, in sleep is when it hit me.
She can't do it
These words traversed my eyes, and I shook out of bed. It was at that moment that I knew that I had to leave. I knew at that moment, Lynette would not be able to live an genuine life with me; she didn't have it in her, and her husband and family were NEVER going to let her live in peace. Staying with her was not the right thing to do for her, me, or her husband, for that matter.
I did my best and left the apartment. I tried to remain solid, but the texts from Lynette with pictures of hearts or her intoxicating body would lure me to her bed. As she was packing to go back to her husband, she was seducing me, while going to marriage classes at night, she was making love to me during the day.
At this time, I lost it; I couldn't take the lies, the deceit, everything was too much. I have never understood how Lynette could lie to everyone, and it never got to her; for me, it was something that broke me. I packed my family and moved 1000 miles away. I wanted Lynette; Lynette wanted me, but I knew it was never going to happen, and I didn't want to put her through what I saw her husband doing. My intentions were good, but the reality was nothing how I wanted to act.
It had been two years since we ended our affair, and she went back to her husband. I was a mess in those two years. I would go from crying from missing her to insanely pissed off that she went back because I told her to. I knew deep down that no matter how much she loved me, how much she needed me, how much she wanted me, she was never going to be able to be authentic. I didn't want to torture her the same way, but differently than her husband and family had.
Authenticity has never been something Lynette has been able to accomplish. Finely crafted lies to keep the nicely furnished life she created was a full-time job for her, and she was obsessed, and I have never been one to live unauthentic. Back then, I was angry at Lynette for not breaking out of the box everyone had built for her. With new eyes, I understand she did what she was able to do and, it didn't matter how much she loved me; she didn't have to tools to live life with the white light of transparency.
In the two years that we were apart, I survived, not well, but I survived. Every two to three months, Lynette would contact me and profess her love and tell me she was ready, and she was going to tell her husband and family she was a lesbian, and she was coming to me. The next day she would disappear; it was one of, if not the most painful times in my life. All made me feel crazy. I would send texts obsessively asking if she was ok, concerned that something might have happened to her. Then her number would change, and I'd get a call from her best friend telling me she was going back to her husband, and they just left for some tropical vacation.
When she would do that to me, it felt scurrilous, cold, and accustomed to expect it. We were like children sneaking out of our house at night, and our parents would find us ground us from speaking to each other. I think back on this with a different mind, and I understand how cold this was for Lynette to do. She couldn't handle being with me, but she didn't want to lose me. Lynette cruelty was in the highest form, and I believe it was not the most significant reason our marriage didn't work. I was insanely angry with her, but I never expressed it; I swallowed it.
Lynette lead the dance, and both Mark and I followed; she was always the single factor to all this pain. This got so bad that anytime Lynette would reach out to me, I would tell her husband. Of course, he didn't believe me, but I have never lied to Mark. I have been the only one who has never lied to him.
Some days I would open a bottle of wine to finish it and wake up the next morning horrified with emails I would write to her husband about how awful he was. They were disgusting; no one deserves the words I w