Who am I right now? What name do I respond to? What signature do I give as I sign off on an email?

Well, that depends on what email I am answering or who is calling on the phone. You see it’s not so easy when part of you lives stealth. Your life starts to divide in a weird way and some things fall on the “new” side like the new school the kids are attending, writing the book, doing gender advocacy work and some things fall on the “old” side like my past career, friends from the old school and my larger group of acquaintances before Hope’s transition. It might sound easy to reconcile both sides, but it is not.

Here’s the tricky part about stealth. Most everything that identified me before (Hope’s transition) identified me as a mom to 2 sons. I regularly said and wrote stories about “my boys” and I can’t erase that part of my history no matter how hard I try. It’s out there. Most of my career and my social groups have nothing to do with my child’s gender identity so it shouldn’t be an issue, right? Wrong. Constantly people ask how the “boys” are mentioning them by name as I cringe in my seat waiting for my panic attack to pass. Keep smiling Jen. What to say? In that moment I am left at a crossroads where in a split second I need to decide whether I address the situation honestly and discuss Hope’s transition or divert the subject never answering the question at all. I’ll be honest with you, this process still gives me the hives.

Living stealth means there are some people you tell and some you don’t. You need to decide quickly in most cases. And for me, that is a slippery slope. Who is the gossip? Who would take this information and use it against us? What if I tell someone from the “old” life and they interact with someone from my “new” life? What happens then? When should we just maintain our privacy? When is it appropriate? Who can I trust?

It’s like I have a foot in two worlds and they constantly intersect leaving me to trip and fumble as I move forward. At my support group for parents of transgender kids, I sometimes find myself so envious of the parents of older children. They can simply tell their friends about their child’s transition and move on. Take it or leave it style. If the other person has an issue, the parents can say “Talk to (my child) about it.” And there it is, a clean break, a new start. Their adult age children can fend for themselves, whereas, my little one cannot. She looks to me to make sense of this journey and sometimes I fear she finds me with my head inside the proverbial map trying to find my way.

I remind myself that it’s going to take time so I need to be patient and gentle with myself. I wish there was a guidebook so my mistakes wouldn’t threaten Hope’s safety and well being. That is all I care about. Not me or my itching, but her. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her and I struggle that this tiny little wish is completely beyond my control. Perhaps that is why I cling to this page and release the struggle. Half of me needs to get it out and the other half needs to prevent another parent from making the same mistakes I do. Still the two sides of me tug and pull like children wanting to go in two different directions.