Yesterday went well until the evening when I spent time in my office getting my to-do list done for today and my wife started chafing because I wasn’t upstairs where I belonged. I just accepted her ranting, since that is my job in this marriage. This morning she was at it again, going on and on and complaining that I wasn’t doing what she wanted me to do in hanging up shower bars in the bathrooms before work. I was reading my Bible, or at least, the daily Bible readings, at which point she got a little embarrassed. Not enough to apologize, of course, because Bethany does not ever feel the need to apologize, but enough to look away and not meet eye contact.
I have been in deep prayer lately about everything going on in my life. There is an excellent book I have been reading entitled ‘The Kneeling Christian’ – about the power of prayer in our lives. I remember when I was first saved I was steadfast in prayer and focused on the Lord, not on things or my circumstances. I remember praying over and over again for relief from my mental issues, expecting Him to solve my problems. I knew that He wanted me to be of good cheer and trust Him, and be of sound mind, but I had no idea that it would take almost fifteen years for Him to answer my prayers.
What have I been praying about? Well, I have been praying for Him to take my mind off my transitioning. It is one of those things, like guitar or anything else, that can absolutely consume my every waking thought. I have been praying for Him to convict me about prayer, and about following His commands. I have been praying also about my transition, asking him to either completely convict me that what I am doing is wrong, or to give me the confidence I need to keep moving forward. I have been praying for Bethany, who is still sick, and I have begun reading books on psychopathy in order to try and understand her inner workings. The truth is this: I was never supposed to have married her. In 2009, I remember praying to God that if He got me out of here (meaning Central MA) I would do whatever He said. I remember Him telling me not to get too comfortable, since I was not to be staying in Massachusetts forever. Instead, I went ahead and got married. The more and more I pray, the more and more I study, the more and more I realize I have married a psychopath, and that while I cannot change her, I can pray for her, and pray fervently that God will help the both of us. Me simply sitting back and being passive about my own life isn’t healthy. Me sitting back and not dealing what issues isn’t healthy. Me focusing exclusively on being trans isn’t healthy, either; I need to be focusing on what the Lord wants me to be doing.
Praying without ceasing is a great way for me to stop having these ridiculous conversations or imagined scenarios in my head where I am being confronted by one person or another about me being transgender. Of course, I am praying not necessarily for freedom from thinking about me being trans as much as I am praying that the Lord will guide me and show me His plan and His purpose for my life.
I am leaving his Dunkin’ Donuts (North Quincy). There is no A/C and it is utterly stifling.
Now I am at Panera in Wilmington enjoying a late dinner. Nice place to eat, and nice and air conditioned, as well. The person who is at the counter here is definitely part of the LGBT+ community, but I can’t tell if he/she is trans like me or just gender queer. I might say something to him/her on my way out. Today I spent quite a bit of time finishing up grading, etc. I have two more essays to grade and I will be out of the woods – for now. It seems that we are going to be implementing more ‘checks’ throughout the semester to ensure student retention, rather than teaching. Tomorrow I have to call the plumber because it seems the wax seal around Bethany’s toilet is having issues, and there is the dividing of creeping myrtle and burgleweed to deal with.
These past few weeks have been quite an interesting sequence of events. Bethany and I have been fighting off and on, and while we always make up in the end it just wears on me after a while. My joy comes from gardening, writing (which I have not been doing with the gardening a pressing matter) and from playing guitar. Sitting there and listening to B consists of her going on and on about her family’s history, which, while interesting, does not allow me to talk about my own. She claims she wants me to interject to say something, but then continues talking so that I can’t say anything. If she could skip over taking a pause for breathing she would, just so I can’t talk.
I went this weekend to Beverly for some shrubs. They were free, and I planted them in the center of the yard, creating a kind of wrap-around for the cherry tree. It’ll look nice when it’s done. Then I did the same further down the side yard for the white dogwood, and then there will be the pink dogwood down by the side of the addition. I guess these trees grow slowly so there won’t be too much going on for the first few years or so. B is complaining about it, of course, despite the fact that these plants were mostly free, but my theory is that she feels if I am working in the garden or yard then I have my hearing aids out, and if I have them out then I can’t be sitting there listening to more crap about how I don’t listen.
I saw Sarah M., Lisa’s sister, the other day, and it kind of triggered me because she is an obnoxious loser who never liked me and actually went out of her way to bully me like everyone else in high school and I kind of wish I hadn’t seen her because my fear is she’ll out me to everyone. But she was probably so focused on how much she hated me that she didn’t notice my growing chest. And yes, my chest is indeed growing, and it seems like it’ll hit B-cup status before long, which makes me very happy. I am terrified and excited at the same time. It would be nice if my face would catch up with my body; aside from my man thighs (likely from running), I have a pretty good curvaceous body aside from that disgusting thing hanging in the middle. It’s my hope that over the summer I can have more sessions of laser on my face and on my chest. My arms are not so bad that I have to shave every day, but my chest has to be shaved at least every other day or so; just my breasts, at least. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been sitting there and just had this urge to grab my breasts. They feel amazing, and they’re mine. Touching them brings me so much pleasure, and I remember as a kid staring in the mirror wishing the buds would pop out. Well, they are now, and I am so happy with the way that they are coming out. I think I’m past an ‘A’ cup now, and I hope that they are nice and big, not too big, but a good size, enough to make me be seen as a female. People still see me as a guy despite the changes, and this is likely due to my continued wearing of male clothing. I think my shoes will eventually be female, as well as a coat or jacket, but aside from that I will likely continue wearing male clothing.
Today I’m scheduling intervals, like I used to; five minutes on the treadmill, about ten minutes or so on a task, then five minutes on the treadmill. I have to keep myself busy because I think about the future a lot here, and thinking about my family makes me nervous because I don’t know how they are going to take my changes.

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