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So, I've mentioned it off and on lately, but I've got a lot going on right now in my personal life. In fact, I am without a doubt at the lowest point in my life, and I hope and pray it never gets worse than this.
So I am here to whine and cry and share my woes. It's very uncharacteristic of me, but it's something I feel like I need to do. It's long, it's complicated, and it's probably going to be pretty shocking. But it's necessary to get the full picture. I apologize in advance if you hate me by the time this is over.
I'm going to try not to ramble. This is very hard for me, because I NEVER let anyone get too close to knowing the "true" me. But that's the good thing about the internet. It's the closest I can get to letting the real Kara show. So here goes...
Most of my life, I knew something was different. These days they might say a kid like me was "socially awkward" or "sensitive." I always felt out of place, even with my best friends. I've lived my whole life in Kansas, and while it's not just a bunch of bumpkin farmers and Fred Phelpses, it's not the most accepting place to be for people who live "alternative" lifestyles.
So, by the time I was 15 I realized what was "wrong" with me. I couldn't put my finger on it before then because I wasn't like anyone I knew. All I knew about people like me was that we were freaks, outcasts, and probably going to Hell. It conflicted with every moral value and social norm I had been taught to accept and it rocked me to the core. One night, knowing I could never be accepted, could never be "me," I sat in the dark in my room with a knife to my wrist. I don't know how long I sat there, but ultimately I couldn't bring myself to destroy the "abomination" that I perceived myself to be.
Because, despite all outward appearances, things weren't as they seemed. It couldn't be seen by anyone, but it was a fact that rang true from the depths of my soul.
I was a girl.
Yes. I am transgendered. A lot of things made sense when I realized it, but at the time I had only seen transpeople on Jerry Springer, so I was less than thrilled to be associated with them. My parents and most of my extended family were (and are) bigots. I denied it, I fought it, I prayed that I this would be "fixed." One night, a few months after I thought I had to take my own life, I got an answer. It was an understanding that calmed the turmoil within me, put me at peace. It was the understanding that there was nothing to "fix" because there was nothing wrong. I was made to be this way, for reasons beyond my understanding. So once I accepted it, things got a lot easier.
Then I joined the cheerleaders and became prom Queen. No, far from it. It's a very complex thing, being a transwoman. I accepted it, but I wasn't "out." For me, that was enough. I had always been (and still am) very withdrawn and show different sides to different people as the situation requires. But never the complete picture. Never the whole "me." Then, at 17, we got internet at home and I discovered an entirely new world of possibilities and self-expression. I could relax, could be "real" (which is pathetic, I know, when you think of being "real" in a virtual realm). I found acceptance.
So what does this have to do with now? I'm getting to that. I met a girl in Orchestra my sophomore year of high school. She made the move before I did, and asked me out. In 2001, we were married. By 2005, we had 2 children. Also in 2005, I told my wife pretty much what I wrote above. I expected her to take our daughter and son and walk away, never looking back. Instead she proved to be more accepting than I could have ever imagined. Not that I didn't love her and believe in her, but because I always expect the worst possible outcome. This was, like, 2 weeks before Halloween, and she suggested a wonderful costume for me since there was a contest at work that day. So she got me all dolled up and, to deflect suspicion that I was a little "too" comfortable, stuck a pillow to my stomach so my costume was "pregnant woman." That was the only time I was ever really me in public. I hide, because I am afraid. Does that make me a coward? Maybe. There's a lot of hate in the world, and I don't want to face it. I know what I am and that's fine.
Let's jump ahead to 2008. Lots of stuff happened. We had another son in 06, I lost my job at T-Mobile after 4 great years, and started at the prison. My wife who had even encouraged me to "come out" publicly, decided that there actually was something wrong with the "girl stuff" and that it should stop immediately never be mentioned again. I had initially raised concerns about the children and how they would deal with it, and she explained it to our daughter (who at the time was old enough to process it). And really, they loved their "mama Kara."
Then there was the stuff that happened with my parents. For those of you who don't remember, my daughter told us that my father had touched her "girl parts." An investigation was filed and closed with nothing found, and my relationship with my parents went to hell. We tried to work through things, but the doubt hung over our heads just like the anger hung over theirs. It ended badly, with a screaming match and then I wrote a letter telling my parents that I wanted no further contact with them at all. Then I went to my doctor and asked to be put on antidepressants, because that's what the multimillion dollar drug company campaigns tell you to do. To date, I have tried many different kinds and while some have made me worse, none make me feel any better. Then in June, I found out I had Diverticulitis when my intestine ruptured and I almost died from septicemia.
2 surgeries later, we come to 2010. On December 8th, I was having a really bad day. None of the kids wanted to cooperate, mommy was still at work, and I had to get them ready for school. My oldest son, he's... difficult. They thought he might have autism when he was little, but didn't see any of the indicators. But he has these episodes when things get to be too much where he is capable of just about anything. He yells, screams, hits himself, throws things, you name it. We were all yelling at each other and when I told him to get his shoes on, he stood there screaming and hitting himself in the forehead with his fist. I'm also refereeing the other two at the same time, and I needed him to sit down and stop hurting himself. The quickest thing I could do was to put my foot out to push him in off balance so he'd sit down. Then, on the way to school, the fight was still ongoing and my daughter, who sits in the passenger seat in my car since mommy had the van at work, was trying to keep her brothers riled up. I put my arm out to the side to get her to stop.
When my wife came home, I told her it had been a horrible morning, that the kids refused to listen and just wanted to throw fits, because that's all any of it amounted to that morning. We were eating a late lunch when the police came to the door. They told my wife they needed to ask her some questions because there were "allegations." We had no idea what was going on. I assured her everything would be fine, that she would talk to them and get everything straightened out. So I stayed home with our youngest and got lunch cleaned up and gave the dog a bath. When I was done, the police came again, this time needed to ask me some questions. I was fine with that.
They asked me what happened that morning and told me that there were allegations that I hit my children. I told them exactly what happened. The detective told me, "well, I don't believe that you just pushed your son with your foot. You kicked him." I said no, and he said, "well, your foot made contact with his stomach, and that's a kick no matter how you look at it." I figured that if that was how he was going to view it, then I had to concede that fact with the clarification that I didn't, like, football punt him or anything. They had me write a statement, so I wrote down exactly what I told them. Then they arrested me on 3 counts of child abuse and told me that they were having my wife file a Protection From Abuse order, (NOTE: this will be important later) and I spent 2 days in jail. The jail which sits less than a mile from the prison where I work.
I was devastated. It didn't make any sense. I called my sister, because I didn't know who else to call. My mother came to my arraignment and posted my bond. The arraignment was where things got more confusing. I was charged on 2 counts of Abuse of a Child. The first for "kicking and punching" my son in the stomach, and the second for "punching" my daughter in the stomach. I was not allowed to be in my home or have contact with my wife or the kids. So, I went to my parents' house, because I have literally nowhere else to go. That means I've been trying to come to work things out with my parents. My wife has tried to get me to talk to them within the last few months, because she believes a lot of my anger comes from carrying the incident that may or may not have happened with my father on my shoulders. We've opened up to the fact that it may have been something that she just took the wrong way, I certainly still have a hard time seeing my father being capable of something like that. But I kept putting it off, because I just didn't want to deal with it. Don't really have a choice now, though.
Yes, I have an anger problem. I tend to blow up, to yell and scream and say stupid things that I later regret. But I have never harmed my kids to a degree that any sane person would consider to be abusive. I saw a therapist in the spring of 09, but my wife didn't like her because we talked about "the girl thing." We then saw a family counselor who's methods didn't really apply and he wasn't covered by my insurance, so it was expensive. I don't like being angry all the time, and if nothing else, I'm going to beat this anger problem once and for all after this.
The last bit of information I have at this time was my PFA hearing on Monday. It was the first time I'd seen my wife in 3 weeks, and it broke my heart to see what this has done to her. She said my son had a bruise above his left eye on his forehead, which is where he had been hitting himself which is why I had to stop him. The judge asked if the police took pictures and she said no. Why the hell not? That didn't make any sense to me. At the prison, if a guy falls out of bed and bangs his elbow, we take a picture just in case. It's one of the first things that we do when there is an injury or use of force, but the police were just like, "Oh well, we don't need a picture, even though we're trying to paint the accused as a monster." She had the people she's staying with take a picture. She said the police have not talked to her at all except to tell her that I "admitted my guilt," which is total bullshit. I stated the facts of what happened and wrote it down to that effect. I guess my son said I hit him with a curtain rod, which is how he got the bruise on his head. I did take a curtain rod and smack it on the stair rail and yell for them to stop. Then I put it back in the bedroom. This is something my wife does on occasion and is usually effective. But I did not and have never hit them with it.
That's when I realized this is all a fucking game. SRS in Kansas is insane. They take everything too far because they wound up looking like jackasses a couple of times in recent years when there were seriously bad things happening in a household and they didn't do anything. So now they've gone to the other extreme. My wife literally lives in fear of these people, terrified that if you make one wrong move they'll swoop in and take your kids. So she's doing everything they tell her to, but she looked even more confused after the judge questioned her on a couple of conflicting pieces of information. I only hope that she believes in me and that she realizes she's being used. In fact, a lot of times she gets mad at me for being "too soft" on them when she felt they should have been spanked.
So anyway, she doesn't want to stay at the house. I can imagine it's probably a pretty painful place to be right now, and she's staying with friends or family. I'm not allowed to know. So on Monday evening, I am allowed back into my home, without my family.
And that's where I am so far in all this. I have a lawyer and from the way it looks like they have mishandled this whole thing (pictures of the only evidence they could have used against me were not taken as they should have been, the charges don't match with what happened based on my wife's testimony, and I have a list of doctors, teachers, and in-home educators who are required by law to report even a suspicion of abuse, and none have ever had cause to do so), it should be sorted out fairly soon once it gets started. I have court Monday afternoon, but my lawyer said that all that will happen is both sides will ask for a continuance since there wasn't time to prepare a case due to the holidays.
So that's me. That's my life so far, in a nutshell. I'm afraid to put it all out there like this, but it felt good to get it out. In the, what, almost 4 years I've been on this site, I've made a lot of friends. You already know me better than all but a select few of the people in the "real" world. Now you know me as a whole person.
So I am here to whine and cry and share my woes. It's very uncharacteristic of me, but it's something I feel like I need to do. It's long, it's complicated, and it's probably going to be pretty shocking. But it's necessary to get the full picture. I apologize in advance if you hate me by the time this is over.
I'm going to try not to ramble. This is very hard for me, because I NEVER let anyone get too close to knowing the "true" me. But that's the good thing about the internet. It's the closest I can get to letting the real Kara show. So here goes...
Most of my life, I knew something was different. These days they might say a kid like me was "socially awkward" or "sensitive." I always felt out of place, even with my best friends. I've lived my whole life in Kansas, and while it's not just a bunch of bumpkin farmers and Fred Phelpses, it's not the most accepting place to be for people who live "alternative" lifestyles.
So, by the time I was 15 I realized what was "wrong" with me. I couldn't put my finger on it before then because I wasn't like anyone I knew. All I knew about people like me was that we were freaks, outcasts, and probably going to Hell. It conflicted with every moral value and social norm I had been taught to accept and it rocked me to the core. One night, knowing I could never be accepted, could never be "me," I sat in the dark in my room with a knife to my wrist. I don't know how long I sat there, but ultimately I couldn't bring myself to destroy the "abomination" that I perceived myself to be.
Because, despite all outward appearances, things weren't as they seemed. It couldn't be seen by anyone, but it was a fact that rang true from the depths of my soul.
I was a girl.
Yes. I am transgendered. A lot of things made sense when I realized it, but at the time I had only seen transpeople on Jerry Springer, so I was less than thrilled to be associated with them. My parents and most of my extended family were (and are) bigots. I denied it, I fought it, I prayed that I this would be "fixed." One night, a few months after I thought I had to take my own life, I got an answer. It was an understanding that calmed the turmoil within me, put me at peace. It was the understanding that there was nothing to "fix" because there was nothing wrong. I was made to be this way, for reasons beyond my understanding. So once I accepted it, things got a lot easier.
Then I joined the cheerleaders and became prom Queen. No, far from it. It's a very complex thing, being a transwoman. I accepted it, but I wasn't "out." For me, that was enough. I had always been (and still am) very withdrawn and show different sides to different people as the situation requires. But never the complete picture. Never the whole "me." Then, at 17, we got internet at home and I discovered an entirely new world of possibilities and self-expression. I could relax, could be "real" (which is pathetic, I know, when you think of being "real" in a virtual realm). I found acceptance.
So what does this have to do with now? I'm getting to that. I met a girl in Orchestra my sophomore year of high school. She made the move before I did, and asked me out. In 2001, we were married. By 2005, we had 2 children. Also in 2005, I told my wife pretty much what I wrote above. I expected her to take our daughter and son and walk away, never looking back. Instead she proved to be more accepting than I could have ever imagined. Not that I didn't love her and believe in her, but because I always expect the worst possible outcome. This was, like, 2 weeks before Halloween, and she suggested a wonderful costume for me since there was a contest at work that day. So she got me all dolled up and, to deflect suspicion that I was a little "too" comfortable, stuck a pillow to my stomach so my costume was "pregnant woman." That was the only time I was ever really me in public. I hide, because I am afraid. Does that make me a coward? Maybe. There's a lot of hate in the world, and I don't want to face it. I know what I am and that's fine.
Let's jump ahead to 2008. Lots of stuff happened. We had another son in 06, I lost my job at T-Mobile after 4 great years, and started at the prison. My wife who had even encouraged me to "come out" publicly, decided that there actually was something wrong with the "girl stuff" and that it should stop immediately never be mentioned again. I had initially raised concerns about the children and how they would deal with it, and she explained it to our daughter (who at the time was old enough to process it). And really, they loved their "mama Kara."
Then there was the stuff that happened with my parents. For those of you who don't remember, my daughter told us that my father had touched her "girl parts." An investigation was filed and closed with nothing found, and my relationship with my parents went to hell. We tried to work through things, but the doubt hung over our heads just like the anger hung over theirs. It ended badly, with a screaming match and then I wrote a letter telling my parents that I wanted no further contact with them at all. Then I went to my doctor and asked to be put on antidepressants, because that's what the multimillion dollar drug company campaigns tell you to do. To date, I have tried many different kinds and while some have made me worse, none make me feel any better. Then in June, I found out I had Diverticulitis when my intestine ruptured and I almost died from septicemia.
2 surgeries later, we come to 2010. On December 8th, I was having a really bad day. None of the kids wanted to cooperate, mommy was still at work, and I had to get them ready for school. My oldest son, he's... difficult. They thought he might have autism when he was little, but didn't see any of the indicators. But he has these episodes when things get to be too much where he is capable of just about anything. He yells, screams, hits himself, throws things, you name it. We were all yelling at each other and when I told him to get his shoes on, he stood there screaming and hitting himself in the forehead with his fist. I'm also refereeing the other two at the same time, and I needed him to sit down and stop hurting himself. The quickest thing I could do was to put my foot out to push him in off balance so he'd sit down. Then, on the way to school, the fight was still ongoing and my daughter, who sits in the passenger seat in my car since mommy had the van at work, was trying to keep her brothers riled up. I put my arm out to the side to get her to stop.
When my wife came home, I told her it had been a horrible morning, that the kids refused to listen and just wanted to throw fits, because that's all any of it amounted to that morning. We were eating a late lunch when the police came to the door. They told my wife they needed to ask her some questions because there were "allegations." We had no idea what was going on. I assured her everything would be fine, that she would talk to them and get everything straightened out. So I stayed home with our youngest and got lunch cleaned up and gave the dog a bath. When I was done, the police came again, this time needed to ask me some questions. I was fine with that.
They asked me what happened that morning and told me that there were allegations that I hit my children. I told them exactly what happened. The detective told me, "well, I don't believe that you just pushed your son with your foot. You kicked him." I said no, and he said, "well, your foot made contact with his stomach, and that's a kick no matter how you look at it." I figured that if that was how he was going to view it, then I had to concede that fact with the clarification that I didn't, like, football punt him or anything. They had me write a statement, so I wrote down exactly what I told them. Then they arrested me on 3 counts of child abuse and told me that they were having my wife file a Protection From Abuse order, (NOTE: this will be important later) and I spent 2 days in jail. The jail which sits less than a mile from the prison where I work.
I was devastated. It didn't make any sense. I called my sister, because I didn't know who else to call. My mother came to my arraignment and posted my bond. The arraignment was where things got more confusing. I was charged on 2 counts of Abuse of a Child. The first for "kicking and punching" my son in the stomach, and the second for "punching" my daughter in the stomach. I was not allowed to be in my home or have contact with my wife or the kids. So, I went to my parents' house, because I have literally nowhere else to go. That means I've been trying to come to work things out with my parents. My wife has tried to get me to talk to them within the last few months, because she believes a lot of my anger comes from carrying the incident that may or may not have happened with my father on my shoulders. We've opened up to the fact that it may have been something that she just took the wrong way, I certainly still have a hard time seeing my father being capable of something like that. But I kept putting it off, because I just didn't want to deal with it. Don't really have a choice now, though.
Yes, I have an anger problem. I tend to blow up, to yell and scream and say stupid things that I later regret. But I have never harmed my kids to a degree that any sane person would consider to be abusive. I saw a therapist in the spring of 09, but my wife didn't like her because we talked about "the girl thing." We then saw a family counselor who's methods didn't really apply and he wasn't covered by my insurance, so it was expensive. I don't like being angry all the time, and if nothing else, I'm going to beat this anger problem once and for all after this.
The last bit of information I have at this time was my PFA hearing on Monday. It was the first time I'd seen my wife in 3 weeks, and it broke my heart to see what this has done to her. She said my son had a bruise above his left eye on his forehead, which is where he had been hitting himself which is why I had to stop him. The judge asked if the police took pictures and she said no. Why the hell not? That didn't make any sense to me. At the prison, if a guy falls out of bed and bangs his elbow, we take a picture just in case. It's one of the first things that we do when there is an injury or use of force, but the police were just like, "Oh well, we don't need a picture, even though we're trying to paint the accused as a monster." She had the people she's staying with take a picture. She said the police have not talked to her at all except to tell her that I "admitted my guilt," which is total bullshit. I stated the facts of what happened and wrote it down to that effect. I guess my son said I hit him with a curtain rod, which is how he got the bruise on his head. I did take a curtain rod and smack it on the stair rail and yell for them to stop. Then I put it back in the bedroom. This is something my wife does on occasion and is usually effective. But I did not and have never hit them with it.
That's when I realized this is all a fucking game. SRS in Kansas is insane. They take everything too far because they wound up looking like jackasses a couple of times in recent years when there were seriously bad things happening in a household and they didn't do anything. So now they've gone to the other extreme. My wife literally lives in fear of these people, terrified that if you make one wrong move they'll swoop in and take your kids. So she's doing everything they tell her to, but she looked even more confused after the judge questioned her on a couple of conflicting pieces of information. I only hope that she believes in me and that she realizes she's being used. In fact, a lot of times she gets mad at me for being "too soft" on them when she felt they should have been spanked.
So anyway, she doesn't want to stay at the house. I can imagine it's probably a pretty painful place to be right now, and she's staying with friends or family. I'm not allowed to know. So on Monday evening, I am allowed back into my home, without my family.
And that's where I am so far in all this. I have a lawyer and from the way it looks like they have mishandled this whole thing (pictures of the only evidence they could have used against me were not taken as they should have been, the charges don't match with what happened based on my wife's testimony, and I have a list of doctors, teachers, and in-home educators who are required by law to report even a suspicion of abuse, and none have ever had cause to do so), it should be sorted out fairly soon once it gets started. I have court Monday afternoon, but my lawyer said that all that will happen is both sides will ask for a continuance since there wasn't time to prepare a case due to the holidays.
So that's me. That's my life so far, in a nutshell. I'm afraid to put it all out there like this, but it felt good to get it out. In the, what, almost 4 years I've been on this site, I've made a lot of friends. You already know me better than all but a select few of the people in the "real" world. Now you know me as a whole person.
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