“…I wish I hadn’t seen all of the realness/And all the real people are really not real at all/The more I learn the more I learn/The more I cry the more I cry/As I say goodbye to the way of life/I thought I had designed for me…” – Nelly Furtado, “Try”

Hello, and welcome to The Uncharted Path; remixed!!! My name is Olivia, and I’m glad y’all are here!!! Let’s get down to business…

Being a transgender woman has led me to reinvent myself often, and my ability to adapt (in effect, a sort of mimicry) has always been a source of pride for me. I’m making glacial progress on finding out exactly who Olivia is, and extricating her from the shell of a person she was encased in. But it’s been tougher than I ever thought it would be to retire the voices and impressions, and to just be a girl. Just to be a human being, and not a cartoon.

When I was a kid, my parents used to use TV as a kind of electronic babysitter. I guess that their reasoning for this was “throw the kid in front of the TV, and he’ll sit there all day. We’ll know where he is, and he’ll be safe.” I was a chunky, portly child; and was mercilessly ribbed for my excess weight. Well, I ended up watching hours upon hours of television programs; with many of my favorite shows being cartoons. Looney Tunes, Popeye, Mighty Mouse, Scooby-Doo, the Super Friends, Heckle & Jeckle, Tom & Jerry, Pixie & Dixie…  I remember whiling away many an hour viewing these animated series, and more. I knew that the TV wouldn’t   make fun of me, as other kids my own age might; and all too often did.

Being the talented mimic that I discovered I was, I did voices and impressions of my favorite characters. I also liked watching professional wrestling (my dad took me to see the then-WWF at the Washington Avenue Armory in Albany, NY. I saw Haystacks Calhoun, Mr Fuji, and “The Polish Power” Ivan Putski, wrestle live.) I found that I could (and still can) do impressions of Hulk Hogan and Randy “Macho Man” Savage; and later on, I added Chris Jericho, Booker T, and even Andre The Giant to my repertoire.

  I thought that if the others were laughing with me, that they wouldn’t be laughing at me. So I kept on telling joke after joke after joke… doing impression after impression. I felt that I had to… I couldn’t talk to anyone else about my hateful shrew of a mother, who made my childhood a nightmare; or the enuresis that killed my self-esteem, drop by drop. No, I had to push those terrible things as far away as I could. My sense of humor became a finely honed defense mechanism, that really ended up working only part of the time. I still got in my share of fights in my youth. Most of the time, I’d lose. So not only did I have emotional bruises, I had physical ones from the fights I’d find myself involved in.

Some would call cartoons an art form. In Japan, anime (and manga) are big business. There are folks who spend hours and hours watching anime, as I watched cartoons when I was young. Some would still call pro wrestling a sport; even after it was revealed that the outcome of the matches was (and had always been) predetermined. Wrestlers still get hurt… (that part is sometimes unscripted; other times, it’s just part of the storyline) it’s like they’re part actor, part athlete. At times they go to great lengths to tell a story. I’ve watched quite a lot of wrestling in my life, and I still enjoy it.

But while both were fun for myself and others to watch, mimicking them didn’t get me any darn where. I’d have  “friends” who, once I revealed my talents for mimicry; kept asking me to do their favorite impressions and voices. And I would comply, because I was afraid of being alone; because being alone would force me to face down my own demons, something I didn’t like doing. Popeye the Sailor Man and Hulk Hogan could fight those nasties in my head and my heart and win; but I felt that I was ill-equipped to battle such monsters on my own.

  These demons and fears led me into drug and alcohol abuse, to try to cope with the loneliness that was my constant companion; and the deeply buried feeling that I was not the person who I saw in the mirror (and absolutely loathed), that I was a girl who I couldn’t even name, nor even imagine at the time. More and more often, I used whatever I could obtain… (most frequently marijuana, but also alcohol and other illegal substances. The list of drugs that I haven’t tried, is shorter than the list of things that I have tried. When I got put on probation, both misdemeanor offenses involved computer duster, which I used as an inhalant.) … and I used those things, alone.

I had no “friends” left to hang out with, because along with pushing my feelings away; I’d wound up pushing PEOPLE away, too. More and more often, folks loved me from afar, because they didn’t want to get near me. I was the most untethered, loosest cannon on the ship. I had no idea how to act like a human being; and looking back on it, I don’t really blame some people for not wanting to be around me.

Much later on, I developed my own voice characters, but I leaned on them a bit too heavily; out of both habit, and that ever-present loneliness.  The voices would start to come out of my mouth at inopportune moments. I had no clue at the time that all the voices and impressions and comedy were pushing away more people than they’d attract, and had been for far too long.

When I found the courage to come out and begin to be myself, and about nine months later on, to begin my recovery journey; I was still blithely doing voices and impressions and being the silly person I had always been. It took me a few years of being clean, and the help of my sponsor, and some outstanding friends (who loved me in spite of my sometimes misguided attempts at hilarity); to understand that the comedy, voices and impressions, were a sort of wall that my former self had constructed to protect me, Olivia. I don’t feel that I need that wall anymore.

A friend helped me see that comedy  was kind of like steak… if you have it for dinner occasionally, it’s yummy. However, if you have it every day; you soon grow tired of it. I finally understood that people were being pushed away by my unceasing jokes. I wasn’t trying to push them away, but it sure seemed to work out that way. To counteract that outcome, I’d need to change my behaviors.

  Change is not a fun thing sometimes; but as a transgender woman, change for me has ironically become a constant. It frequently involves learning by trial and error… and error… and error; at least it has for me. Comedy and cartoons and wrestling can all really be considered different styles of art. I finally figured out that I’m a post-modern impressionist, in a minimalist world.

Minimalism is a WAY different style than I’m used to, but I intend to excel at it. That will involve my quieting down, calming down, listening more (especially when I want to spout off on something,) and letting others be more in charge of social situations. I’m going to try and take up less space, and say only what needs to be said, with less effort.

Oh, don’t get me wrong; I can still physically do most all the voices and impressions I used to… I’ve finally come to the understanding that it is (and always was, unbeknownst to me) in my best interest not to. A distinct change in personality is in order… and it’s going to be arduous. It’s going to feel like playing Texas Hold ’em with a pinochle deck. But it’s time (dare I say, high time…) for Olivia to sit back, listen, and learn. I’m going to learn how to beat the minimalists at their own game.

It surely won’t be easy; but if anyone can do it, it’d be me. And I may just find out more about who and what I am along the way. And I’m going to bubble silently up through the hushed ranks of those muted minimalists; until I can find the place, and the people, who will truly appreciate both the talents I have, and the gifts I will doubtless acquire in the process.

‘Til next time… Peace… and QUIET.

“… My funny valentine/ Sweet comic valentine/ You make me smile with my heart/ Your looks are laughable/ Unphotographable/ But you’re my favorite work of art…” – Elvis Costello, “My Funny Valentine”

Hello and welcome to The Uncharted Path, where objects in the mirror aren’t as far away as they might seem to the untrained eye. They’re as close as a memory, and sometimes just as hazy. Fuzzy, faraway faded memories can sometimes seem like works of art. But I believe that art, like beauty; is in the eye of the beholder. Allow me to elaborate, as I often do. <slow dissolve into Olivia’s past, as John Candy’s character from “Spaceballs” states, “Nice dissolve…“>

When I was a kid, my parents used to use TV as a kind of electronic babysitter. I guess that their reasoning for this was “throw the kid in front of the TV, and he’ll sit there all day. We’ll know where he is, and he’ll be safe.” I was a chunky, portly child; and was mercilessly ribbed for my excess weight. Well, I ended up watching hours upon hours of television programs; with many of my favorite shows being cartoons. Looney Tunes, Popeye, Mighty Mouse, Scooby-Doo, the Super Friends, Heckle & Jeckle, Tom & Jerry, Pixie & Dixie… I remember whiling away many an hour viewing these animated series, and more. I knew that the TV wouldn’t make fun of me, as other kids my own age might; and all too often did.

Being the talented mimic that I discovered I was, I did voices and impressions of my favorite characters. I also liked watching professional wrestling (my dad took me to see the then-WWF at the Washington Avenue Armory in Albany, NY. I saw Haystacks Calhoun, Mr Fuji, and “The Polish Power” Ivan Putski, wrestle live.) I found that I could (and still can) do impressions of Hulk Hogan and Randy “Macho Man” Savage; and later on, I added Chris Jericho, Booker T, and even Andre The Giant to my repertoire.

I thought that if the others were laughing with me, that they wouldn’t be laughing at me. So I kept on telling joke after joke after joke… doing impression after impression. I felt that I had to… I couldn’t talk to anyone else about my hateful shrew of a mother, who made my childhood a nightmare; or the enuresis that killed my self-esteem, drop by drop. No, I had to push those terrible things as far away as I could. My sense of humor became a finely honed defense mechanism, that really ended up working only part of the time. I still got in my share of fights in my youth. Most of the time, I’d lose. So not only did I have emotional bruises, I had physical ones from the fights I’d find myself in.

Some would call cartoons an art form. In Japan, anime (and manga) are big business. There are folks who spend hours and hours watching anime, as I watched cartoons when I was young. Some would still call pro wrestling a sport; even after it was revealed that the outcome of the matches was (and had always been) predetermined. Wrestlers still get hurt… (that part is sometimes unscripted; other times, it’s just part of the storyline) it’s like they’re part actor, part athlete. At times they go to great lengths to tell a story. I’ve watched quite a lot of wrestling in my life, and I still enjoy it.

But while both were fun for myself and others to watch, mimicking them didn’t get me any darn where. I’d have “friends” who, once I revealed my talents for mimicry; kept asking me to do their favorite impressions and voices. And I would comply, because I was afraid of being alone; because being alone would force me to face down my own demons, something I didn’t like doing. Popeye the Sailor Man and Hulk Hogan could fight those nasties in my head and my heart and win; but I felt that I was ill-equipped to battle such monsters on my own.

These demons and fears led me into drug and alcohol abuse, to try to cope with the loneliness that was my constant companion; and the deeply buried feeling that I was not the person who I saw in the mirror (and absolutely loathed), that I was a girl who I couldn’t even name, nor even imagine at the time. More and more often, I used whatever I could obtain… (most frequently marijuana, but also alcohol and other illegal substances. The list of drugs that I haven’t tried, is shorter than the list of things that I have tried. When I got put on probation, both misdemeanor offenses involved computer duster, which I used as an inhalant.) … and I used those things, alone.

I had no “friends” left to hang out with, because along with pushing my feelings away; I’d wound up pushing PEOPLE away, too. More and more often, folks loved me from afar, because they didn’t want to get near me. I was the most untethered, loosest cannon on the ship. I had no idea how to act like a human being; and looking back on it, I don’t really blame some people for not wanting to be around me.

Much later on, I developed my own voice characters, but I leaned on them a bit too heavily; out of both habit, and that ever-present loneliness. The voices would start to come out of my mouth at inopportune moments. I had no clue at the time that all the voices and impressions and comedy were pushing away more people than they’d attract, and had been for far too long.

When I found the courage to come out and begin to be myself, and about nine months later on, to begin my recovery journey; I was still blithely doing voices and impressions and being the silly person I had always been. It took me a few years of being clean, and the help of my sponsor, and some outstanding friends (who loved me in spite of my sometimes misguided attempts at hilarity); to understand that the comedy, voices and impressions, were a sort of wall that my former self had constructed to protect me, Olivia. I don’t feel that I need that wall anymore.

A friend helped me see that comedy was kind of like steak… if you have it for dinner occasionally, it’s yummy. However, if you have it every day; you soon grow tired of it. I finally understood that people were being pushed away by my unceasing jokes. I wasn’t trying to push them away, but it sure seemed to work out that way. To counteract that outcome, I’d need to change my behaviors.

Being a transgender woman has led me to reinvent myself often, and my ability to adapt (in effect, a different sort of mimicry) has always been a source of pride for me. I’m making glacial progress on finding out exactly who Olivia is, and extricating her from the shell of a person she was encased in. But it’s been tougher than I ever thought it would be to retire the voices and impressions, and to just be a girl. Just to be a human being, and not a cartoon.

Change is not a fun thing sometimes; but as a transgender woman, change for me has ironically become a constant. It frequently involves learning by trial and error… and error… and error; at least it has for me. Comedy and cartoons and wrestling can all really be considered different styles of art. I finally figured out that I’m a post-modern impressionist, in a minimalist world.

Minimalism is a WAY different style than I’m used to, but I intend to excel at it. That will involve my quieting down, calming down, listening more (especially when I want to spout off on something,) and letting others be more in charge of social situations. I’m going to try and take up less space, and say only what needs to be said, with less effort.

Oh, don’t get me wrong; I can still physically do most all the voices and impressions I used to… I’ve finally come to the understanding that it is (and always was, unbeknownst to me) in my best interest not to. A distinct change in personality is in order… and it’s going to be arduous. It’s going to feel like playing Texas Hold ’em with a pinochle deck. But it’s time (dare I say, high time…) for Olivia to sit back, listen, and learn. I’m going to learn how to beat the minimalists at their own game.

It surely won’t be easy; but if anyone can do it, it’d be me. And I may just find out more about who and what I am along the way. And I’m going to bubble silently up through the hushed ranks of those muted minimalists; until I can find the place, and the people, who will truly appreciate both the talents I have, and the gifts I will doubtless acquire in the process. I’m watching you, world. <points to her eyes with two fingers, then out at the world> I’m waiting for my time. <looks down at her watch> Sooner than you think, I’m gonna be shining so brightly, you’ll need TWO pairs of sunglasses.

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say: “Sssssssssssssshhhhhhh!!! I’m learning here!!!”

Peace…. and QUIET.

“…I came out to this town/ To seek a new career/ Or just another kind of whirlwind/ Than one that brought me here…” – “The Whirlwind”, Elvis Costello

Hello, and welcome once again to The Uncharted Path; that magical, mythical place where reality and surreality meet, eat, and dance to the beat!!! We’re here tonight to answer the musical question, “Where the F*** has Olivia BEEN for almost a year?!?” Glad you asked.

Well, when I last posted, I’d just entered an Oxford recovery house in San Antonio, Texas; after exiting a rehab facility due to a false positive drug test. I spent, oh, about four months in that particular house; where I met some good people, a few of whom I’m still Facebook friends with. It was a nice house, and I learned a lot about myself, and about life. I’ll always be grateful to those ladies for accepting me.

I was still learning about myself, and I went over the step work I’d completed in the rehab facility with my sponsor. I moved on in my step work, and had many things to think about. Being a trans woman is NOT easy, and in the midst of reinventing myself, I found that I had to re-reinvent myself. The step work I did helped me identify quite a few things that I felt I needed to change about myself, and I did the best I could to get my life on an even keel.

However, I found that too much of the old me remained, and it would pop up at the most inopportune times; and I blew up at one of my housemates. This was NOT a good thing. I had also been having difficulty finding steady work, and I believe that I may have inadvertently taken my multitude of frustrations out on someone who really didn’t deserve it. I was made to enter an anger management course (which helped me get a handle on my frustrations); but before I could finish it, I was evicted due to problems in paying rent.

Luckily, one of my smart housemates helped me out, with a brilliant idea. I was sent to a Baptist church, and asked them for help with my back rent. To my utter shock, they cut me a check for the amount I owed the house a few days later. (I’d always thought that religious types didn’t like folks like myself…) I paid the house what I owed them, and I was able to get into a different Oxford recovery house, in another part of town. Those were some hairy times, I don’t mind telling you…

The second house was WAAAAAY more laid-back than the first one, perhaps a bit too laid-back, as I later found. I had a few friends at the first house, but I felt that I really didn’t vibe with anyone in the second house. Perhaps I was expecting too much from them, and especially from myself. My step work, the anger management course, and my re-reinvention all continued apace.

I luckily found steady work, and I liked the job and the people I worked with. I’m still Facebook friends with a few of them, too. The money I earned enabled me to get caught up on my rent, which was a nice feeling, after the problems I’d had at the other house. I completed the anger management course, which I felt very good about. That course, and the step work I did, helped me learn even more about myself. I had TONS of work yet to do, though.

At the second house, there was a group of friends, that due probably to my incredible social awkwardness, I just never felt a part of. These were some excellent kids, (I say “kids,” because most of them were in their twenties. I was fifty-four at the time.) but I just didn’t feel like I really got on with any of them, despite some kind of similar shared circumstances I had with a couple of them. Again, they were great, but for whatever reason, I found myself feeling more and more alone there. Maybe it was them; more likely, it was me, but it just felt less and less like home to me.

Some of y’all might think that I’m laying too much blame for my circumstances onto my own overly broad shoulders… I don’t think so. I had to try to accept my part of the blame (whether blaming anyone was necessary or not) for the direction my life had taken. In beginning to do so, I learned a minuscule amount more about who I was, and that helped me cope with the stress I was under. That stress was in no way an excuse for some of the things I did and said; and I dearly hope that I’m continuing to grow beyond that now.

Late in the year, I met a new friend on Facebook; and we became kinda close. It was a welcome change from the loneliness I’d been feeling. We talked often, and soon our talks turned to me moving up there where she lived. I talked it over with my sponsor, and some trusted predecessors; and I decided that a change of scenery would do me good. I ended up meeting more friends up there who would later prove to be absolute ANGELS to me in both the early steps of my relocation, and beyond.

So, in late December; I left the Oxford house, and San Antonio, and moved north (via Greyhound bus) to St Paul, Minnesota. The move started out well enough, with my best friend in the Oxford house driving me to the Greyhound bus station. I loaded my things (a couple large suitcases, and three large boxes) onto the bus. I left San Antonio in the rearview mirror.

I got to Dallas, Texas; and discovered that the connecting bus to Kansas City had already left. Uh-oh!!! As Greyhound tried to get myself (and a few others) onto another bus headed to the same destination, I waited… and waited… and waited… and waited some more. FINALLY, my stuff and I got on a bus bound for the same destination (and so did the other people) I had been headed for. I spent a total of about twelve hours in the Dallas Greyhound station. They fed me a couple times for free, and some guy in the outdoor smoking area offered me weed. (I said no, as perhaps I should have, all those years ago; instead of laughing at Nancy Reagan.) I was glad when the bus rolled into Oklahoma. I left quite a few wonderful friends (who I still talk to regularly) behind in Texas; but I’ll tell you, after that Dallas debacle, I was ecstatic to finally be out of there.

After that, the trip continued as it should’ve from the start. I ended up rolling into St Paul, and meeting my new friend on Christmas Eve of 2020. I stayed with her in West St Paul for just about a month. I’m grateful to her for the help she gave me in both getting up here, and in helping me learn more about myself. (You know, with all the things that I’ve learned about myself, you’d think that I’d know myself pretty well by now… ehhhhhhhhhh, not so much. I’m still learning about Olivia, to this day. Although I can say, without fear of contradiction; that I’ve changed a HELLUVA lot from the girl who came out in June of 2015. And I intend to keep doing exactly that, and to try to be less and less grumpy.)

I was lucky enough to find a job pretty quickly. It began as a part-time job, but a couple months ago, I went full-time. Due to the people who controlled my friend’s housing grant, I needed to find another place to live right away, and thanks to the ANGELS I mentioned previously, I was indeed able to do so. I’ve had a S***-TON of help from some absolutely beautiful people; both in San Antonio, and here in South St Paul, where I now reside. I thank them PROFUSELY, one and all. Y’all have taught me plenty, and I’m truly grateful.

Even since I went full-time at my job, I’m still learning about Olivia… I finally realized that the voices and impressions that some of you may know and love me for, were pretty much just a barrier that my past self put up to protect me, Olivia. I’ve mostly retired those voices and impressions (still working on it), and trying to get closer to the me that’s sat there inside, overprotected for decades. I’m also trying to change in other ways, and while it’s a bit lonesome at times, (I need to remember to reach out, even if it is just to some disembodied voices on the internet… Thanks, ‘Rona!!!) I’m confident that this careful archaeological dig of sorts to get to the core of the mind, heart and soul of Olivia will be SOOOOOOOO worth it.

Some may wonder why I refer to Olivia sometimes in the third person… that’s because I don’t really feel like I know her yet. My ultimate goal remains the same: to fall head-over-heels in love with Olivia (me.) I’m still getting to know her… me… Olivia. She’s got spunk, she’s tenacious, and she’s got some pretty good qualities. Now if she… erm… I… could just work out where (or if… more and more often, I’m finding parts of that person that I wanna get rid of, because they don’t serve the person I’m becoming…) the remnants of my past self fit in, I’ll be good. Re-re-re-reinvention, anyone?!? Lol

So that about covers the last year or so. I recollect the Olivia who emerged from the rehab I went to (at my sponsor’s suggestion); and I understand innately that I’m a different person now, than I was when I last posted here. I’m glad for that. As I continue to evolve (and stay clean and sober- now just over five years and three months); I think that I’ll close this novelette out with a quote from my coming-out post, way back in 2015:

Hello, world!!! I’m Olivia!!!

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say: If you want to fly, remove everything that’s weighing you down.

Peace… and new beginnings.

“… Oh, has the world changed, or have I changed?/ Oh, has the world changed, or have I changed?/ Some nine-year-old tough that peddles drugs; I swear to God, I swear/ I never even knew what drugs were…” – “The Queen Is Dead”- The Smiths

Hi there, y’all! My name is Olivia, & I am the hostess & proprietor of this little slice of internet called The Uncharted Path. I call it that, for two reasons: one, because I am a transgender woman; and two, because I am in recovery from drug addiction… & THAT is the part I wanted to talk about today.

Some of y’all may ask, “Where in the world have you been, Olivia?!?” Well, I’ll tell you. I was in an in-patient drug treatment center. I got bounced from the women’s sober living house where I was staying, due to a false positive drug test. One condition of living there was random drug tests at ANY time. I’m not sure what happened, but I had one which came up positive for methamphetamine and benzedrine. “But, Olivia; you’ve never used meth in your entire life!!!” I know that, and I can’t figure out what skewed the test to make it read that way. But that’s in the past, and that’s something else I’d like to touch upon.

Anyone who knows me well enough, will know that I indeed have a past. I had used drugs (marijuana and alcohol mostly, but you name it & I’ve probably tried it) for over thirty years. My clean date is STILL January 30th, 2016. I. DID. NOT. USE. But it was my WONDERFUL sponsor’s (who I actually now live like a mile away from) idea for me to go into treatment. Part of the program of Narcotics Anonymous (which SAVED. MY. LIFE. , as some of you may also know) is honesty. I am completely honest when I say that I did NOT use. Another part is open-mindedness. I was open-minded enough to know that I don’t know everything, and that going to a treatment center could help me learn to put my recovery FIRST in my life. And another part is willingness. I was, and am; willing to do whatever it takes for me to stay clean ONE DAY AT A TIME.

I came out of the treatment center a different woman than I went in. I learned some hard truths there, but I possibly should have learned some of that stuff ages ago. Some of you may know that though I can write a fair bit, I am extremely socially awkward. I think that at least some of that is due to fear, which is the part of the Fourth Step (Narcotics Anonymous is a twelve-step program) that I was stuck on before I went in. I’m proud to say that outside of doing all the assignments I needed to, that I indeed FINISHED Step Four, and am working on Step Five. I’m happy about that because I get to go over it with my sponsor, and when I do, I can learn more about why I used in the first place. I did have to redo steps 1 through 3, as part of the treatment procedure, but I’ll go over THOSE with my sponsor, too.

“But, Olivia… WHY did you go into treatment if you didn’t use?” Well, because my sponsor recommended it. Also because it beats not having a roof over my head. I am a better person for having done so, I believe. When I was using, I didn’t care about ANYONE else. I did so MANY people a whole heckuva lot of harm. Today, I am able to make better decisions, so I don’t repeat the same mistakes. I also learned that I need to be more mindful of others.

When I first got to San Antonio, one of the sponsors I had was a fantastic lady who helped me through the Second and Third Steps. She ended up dropping me as a sponsee because I wasn’t putting the work into my recovery that I should’ve been. Looking back, that should’ve been an ENORMOUS red flag to me that I was getting complacent. I’ve said for awhile now that she did the correct thing by dropping me; just like I’m now thankful that I was fired from the job I had back in December 2014 because I was stealing computer duster to get high on, and got caught on video doing exactly that. When those things occurred, I wasn’t very thankful at all. But hindsight is indeed 20/20, and those events are now part of that past I mentioned before. I can’t change my past, but I can, and should learn from it. That’s where Step Four (which took me almost two years to finish… complacency again…) comes in. That, and Step Five; will help me to learn even more about myself, and also to let the past go, which is another thing I’ve had problems doing. I feel that I’m on the verge of a breakthrough in my recovery, and my stay at the treatment center has, in effect; relit my recovery pilot light. MWBR (More Will Be Revealed), as we say.

I do fall back on a lot of NA clichés, and the person who mentioned that when I was in the treatment center was spot on. But they wouldn’t be clichés if they weren’t true. We really do only have ONE day clean… TODAY. And the girl who welcomed me to the Oxford recovery house that I’m now living in, said something which really made me think; and also smile. She said, “Don’t worry about the past. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” Sage advice… think I’ll take that & run with it, directly to an NA meeting.

And maybe someday, I’ll be far enough over this latest hitch in my life’s giddyup, to perhaps be grateful for the false positive test that drove me into treatment; just like I’m grateful to have been fired from that job I mentioned earlier, and to have been dropped by that former sponsor (who I am still great friends with, and love dearly). Time will tell… MWBR.

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say, “Whatever you put before your recovery, you will lose it.” (It happened to me.)

Peace… and RECOVERY.

P.S.: The answer to BOTH questions posed in the intro, about whether me or the world have changed?!? I would say a resounding YES.

“I want to thank you falettinme/Be mice elf agin/(Different strokes for different folks, yeah)/Thank you falettinme/Be mice elf agin” – Sly and the Family Stone, “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)”

Hi, kids!!! It’s your friend Olivia once again; and today, March 31st, is a very special day. It’s called TDOV, which stands for Transgender Day Of Visibility. It’s a day dedicated to celebrating transgender people and raising awareness of discrimination faced by transgender people worldwide, as well as a celebration of their contributions to society.

If you didn’t know by now, I am a transgender woman. I came out to the world on Facebook on June 17th, 2015. Before that, I was someone else entirely; and I wasn’t even that good at it. When puberty hit me like a runaway truck with no brakes, I knew that something was happening to my body that I was extremely uncomfortable with. When I finally understood that I was transgender; I couldn’t accept it, nor could I accept myself. I attempted suicide (41% of transgender people have attempted suicide at least once in their lifetimes, compared with 4.6% for the general population) at the tender age of nineteen; mistakenly figuring that ending my life would be easier than doing the veritable mountain of work that it would take to change it. Now that I’ve started up that mountain, even with just the comparatively small bit of progress I’ve made; my life has improved by leaps and bounds!!! I’m no longer consumed by self-loathing, and I’m beginning to find out more and more about who and what I am, every day.

And now we come to what I wanted to talk about… being myself. Most folks don’t have to try to be themselves. But because I was someone else for so very long (I came out to myself at the age of forty-eight; I just celebrated my fifty-fourth birthday earlier this month), I have to try to be myself. I know who and what I am, and want to be; but because that ideal of mine is far (farther than I’d care to contemplate) from the physical body (and its movements, mannerisms, and capabilities) that I presently have, I have to work on changing it, so that I can one day, I can “be myself” effortlessly.

I’ve made progress, and each passing milestone (trans folks, & perhaps allies as well, will get the slight pun there) fills me with joy. Sometimes, though; that overwhelming… I guess that for a complete lack of a better phrase, I’ll call it “muscle memory”… takes over, and I’m back acting like the person I was in the past. When I realize I’m doing it, I know that I have to work harder, and try to be that beautiful lady outside, that I know I am inside. I have some wonderfully supportive friends, and a great sponsor (I’m an addict in recovery, and I’m a member of an anonymous 12-step program, which has SAVED. MY. LIFE.) who help me not to get down on myself for my failings. If you think that completely reinventing yourself is easy; try it… that “muscle memory” is sometimes more difficult to counter than you could ever imagine.

I tend to view women much more clinically than I ever used to. Not just “She’s very attractive…”(there IS still some of that going on, because I am indeed a lesbian); it’s more “What makes her so attractive, and how can I adapt myself to approximate that level of attractiveness?!?” Not just “I like the sound of her voice”, but more “How can I sound somewhat like that?!? What phrasing and inflection does she tend to use; and how can I do the same, so I can pass even better?!?” And to the cisgender women reading this, relax…. imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

For transgender women, passing can sometimes be a matter of survival. Trans women who get read as such, could (and often do) get beaten up, or worse. Thankfully, I personally haven’t experienced that, but I know many who have. But that’s only part of what TDOV is about, and that part is more thoroughly explored every November 20th, which is Transgender Day Of Remembrance, or TDOR. If you know a transgender person (according to a 2016 estimate, there are 1.4 million of us in the United States alone), let them know that you care about them. Treat them kindly, and listen when they speak… you may learn something. We need all the allies we can get. And if you see someone hating on trans people, call them out on it; and let them know that you won’t stand for that. Together, we can make this world a better place for transgender people; and for people in general.

Tune in next time, when we hear Olivia say, “You are responsible for your own happiness.”

Peace… and VISIBILITY.

“Hey! Wait!! I got a new complaint/ Forever in debt to your priceless advice/ Your advice…” – Nirvana, “Heart-Shaped Box”

Hi there, fans and friends, and odds and ends… it’s your friend Olivia!!! Let’s get into this shindig, without any more hullabaloo!!! (No dancing around the issues here…)

On Thursday, January 30th; I celebrated FOUR full years CLEAN!!! A worthy achievement, yes; but hold your applause for just a minute. I wanna share something that happened to me this evening, if I may… (And, yes; I may, cos this is MY show!!!) First, a little background…

For those of you who are unaware, I live in a women’s sober living house a few miles away from where I work in a call center. I just transferred to this location because it’s closer to where I live; and I like it fine so far. I ride my new bicycle from where the bus route ends, to my job; Monday-Friday. I also ride the bike (which I lovingly call “The Ghost”) from my job to the bus stop after work; a distance of just over two miles. “The Ghost” doesn’t yet have a light on the front; but that item is on my shopping list; as well as other things which will enable safer riding in the future. It’s early February, so the sun goes down in the early evening; JUST after I’m scheduled to leave work.

I got close to the bus stop as the sun finished setting, and I saw the bus pulling away as I pushed the bike up the very last hill. I ended up missing that particular bus, making it to the stop just a couple minutes after it had pulled away. I had about forty minutes to wait for the next bus… OR, I could have rode the bicycle in the dark; on a stretch of road I’d never ridden it on before, with no light and maybe gotten home sooner than that. Those were my choices. Now HERE’S where the learning comes in.

Back in the day, I’d have just rode in the dark, not really knowing or being really able to see what was ahead of me, risking possibly getting hit by a driver who couldn’t see me; all to save a few minutes. NOT TODAY. I try to make better decisions today. I messaged a good friend of mine, and walked it by them first. I informed them of the choices available to me, and they gave me their welcome input. Their suggestion was to wait for the bus, and not risk possible injury or death. Today, I LISTENED to their advice. I sat there at the bus stop waiting for the next bus, which came along in due course. I put my bike on the rack mounted on the front of the bus, and rode towards home.

I like to think that because of the positive influence of the 12-step program that I’m a member of, that I made a safer decision than I would have before. Also, I’m getting older – I will turn fifty-four in a month (something I never envisioned occurring); and it’s well past the time that I should be acting rashly and doing impulsive things like riding on an unknown highway in the dark without lights. And also, my best thinking led me to DO those (and other) things which got me into trouble; and eventually led me to the program (which has indeed SAVED. MY. LIFE.) I consulted a trusted friend and got their opinion before I went and did something with potentially dire consequences.

In the four full years that I’ve been clean (please continue to hold your applause), I’ve learned SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH about being a sensible human being; and also learned about myself in the process. I’m actually proud of myself for heeding my friend’s advice; something that I probably wouldn’t have done back when I was ‘young and dumb and full of…’ IDEAS… (yeah, we’ll go with that – there ARE kids who read this blog, you know…) After decades of making wrong choices, I’ve begun to make better ones. Could I actually be… (audible gasp) finally starting to GROW UP a little?!? Naaaaaahhhhh!!! I’m still the same lovable Olivia I always was… only NOW, I don’t make decisions which could possibly lead to my demise. I credit that to the program mostly; but also to the fledgling wisdom of an age I had never thought I’d attain.

And I never would have made the decision I made this evening without trusting my friend and their sound advice. I wouldn’t have done that (trust someone, I mean) back in the long ago, either. (Maybe I am growing up a little.) Today though, I welcome the positive change in my life. So what if it cost me a few minutes of waiting?!? I believe that I gained more than that – like pride that I picked the correct option, the reassurance of my friend that I value their input; AND the chance to keep on living, accumulating clean time (which does not equal recovery), and writing this here blog for y’all. That’s all for now, kids!!!

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say, “Listen to your predecessors!!!” Oh… and you can applaud me getting four full years clean… wait for it… wait for it… NOW. (basks in the radiance of a brilliant ovation)

Peace… and GROWTH.

“Shed my skin/ Shed my skin/ This is the new stuff/ This is the new stuff/ I go dancing in…”- “Sledgehammer”, Peter Gabriel

Hey, kids… Y’girl is back, and on the attack!!! It’s Olivia here, your humble hostess. Now I know that I haven’t been around for a little while (a few months, actually); but I’m still clean (YAY!!!) and well, I’ve been a little busy. What have I been up to? Glad you asked… Let me break it down proper-like.

When last we left our gorgeous friend Olivia, the lease she had on the bug-infested apartment that she was living in was about to expire in a month. She didn’t wanna stay there anymore. What to do? Find a new, better place; and that she… (ahem) I… did. The opportunity fell into my lap to be able to move into a women’s sober living house in another part of San Antonio; and I jumped at it. It took the efforts of quite a few wonderful people to get me here, and I’m grateful as hell to all of them!!!

Throughout all of the packing, moving, and other assorted anxieties that I endured during the past few months, I stayed clean. That ALSO took the efforts of quite a few wonderful people (some of whom were mentioned earlier), and I’m grateful as hell to all of them as well!!!

My last Thanksgiving in my old apartment was kind of bittersweet. I knew that I’d be moving soon; so I had packed some stuff, and gotten rid of other stuff. As I watched the football games on TV, and thought about where I’d come from, where I was, and where I was heading; I also remembered some of the good times I had with my late father. He truly was my best friend, and I miss him terribly. Football always makes me think about him, because that was how we originally bonded all those years ago. I was also able to do some more packing. I wasn’t as packed and ready as I could’ve been, but I had hope (the program gave me that) things would go swimmingly.

A couple days later, I moved into the women’s sober living house where I now reside. I soon met the other girls who live here, and we get along reasonably well. I’m still clean, as I stated earlier (YAY!!!); and still learning about myself, life, and womanhood; not necessarily in that order. A few of y’all might know that even with all the trials and tribulations that I went through back then, that I carried an 85 average through four years of high school. But I daresay that I have MORE enthusiasm for learning now than I ever had in school. Yesterday, I realized that just ten short years ago, I had NO idea that I’d have the kind of life that I enjoy today. I’m truly grateful for that life, and I try to live in the sunshine of that gratitude every day. It sure beats the gloomy pall the previous tenant slogged through.

So now onto the “genius moment”™️ I had earlier today that prompted me to get back to writing this blog again… I’m still working the same job in the call center. I was off Sunday, home watching playoff football; and they had had peanut butter and jelly sandwich day or something on Sunday at the job. The leftover fixings were sitting around, and I had come in a little bit early on this, a Wednesday. I asked if I could make some sandwiches, and was given the go-ahead to proceed. However, I couldn’t find a knife to spread the peanut butter and jelly onto the bread. What to do?

I walked into our break room, searching for a knife, but only found a large supply of sporks. I had a flash of insight, and grabbed a few of the sporks. I returned to where the PB&J stuff was, and began taking the sporks out of their individual plastic wrappers. I put the grape jelly onto the bread, and turned the sporks over and spread the peanut butter and jelly onto the bread with the handles of the sporks. I used a couple at once, because I didn’t want them to break in the peanut butter jar. It all worked out, and voila… breakfast!!!

I think that if I can have ingenious thoughts like that, then the sky is truly the limit for me!!! Turning the ideas of the past into something that I can use in the now and the future, is something I choose to see as a sign of growth. My best thinking got me deep into a seemingly bottomless pit of self-loathing; that I’m now climbing out of. I actually now have a wee small bit of self-love happening in my life. I liken it to a handful of smoldering wood shavings that I’m blowing on gently; in the fervent hope that I’ll soon have a roaring fire. I credit the 12-step program I’m a member of, and the folks I’ve met in that program, for helping me turn my life, my world, and especially my thinking, around. Life does indeed go on, but today it goes MUCH more positively.

And now for a quick glimpse of my near-term goal: My clean date is January 30th. Our regional convention begins January 31st. I wanna celebrate four full years of clean time at the regional convention. It’s highly likely to happen, but in no way certain just yet. Until that blissful weekend, I’m staying with the approach that got me this far: ONE DAY AT A TIME. Will it happen (highly likely), or will I use, self-destruct and end up homeless?!? I wouldn’t bet against me if I were you!!! Stay tuned…

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say: “She who laughs last, doesn’t get the joke.”

Peace… and MEMORIES.

“I could have written a book on/ The lessons I took/ In the agony of defeat/ And showed you all the signs/ Between the lines/ On the bitter side of sweet” – Clint Black, “The Bitter Side Of Sweet”

Hey, y’all; welcome back to The Uncharted Path!!! I’m Olivia, and I’m an addict. I’m also a trans woman. And I’d always heard that one’s past doesn’t define them. Well, you know me, I needed proof. I found it, in the person of one Vinko Bogataj. “WHO?“, you may well ask.

Vinko Bogataj, March 21, 1970

Yup, that guy. Mr. “Agony Of Defeat” himself. March 21st, 1970, at the World Ski Flying Championships at Oberstdorf, West Germany; the young Slovenian took a tumble for the ages on a very icy ramp. Remarkably, he only suffered a concussion and a broken ankle in the fall. He told everyone who would listen that he was okay, and wanted to jump again. But medical personnel wouldn’t hear it, and took him away to the hospital.

Later on, ABC’s Wide World Of Sports used a clip of Vinko’s fall in the introductory segment of their program. He became famous from the clip, and when they invited him to the 20th anniversary celebration of the show, Bogataj was floored by a standing ovation. There were loads of famous athletes in attendance, and Muhammad Ali was the first of many to ask for his autograph. I watched an interview segment from a 1997 Wide World of Sports show produced by Brent Musberger; and learned that he returned to training in June of 1970.

Later on in his life, he became a landscape painter and wood carver; and won awards with his paintings. His work has been exhibited in both Europe and the United States. Now 71 years of age, he currently resides in his hometown of Lesce, Slovenia; with his wife and two daughters. Now, why does all this matter?!? Well, I’m gonna tell you!

If even the “Agony Of Defeat” guy can go on with his life, and achieve success; anyone can!!! Think about what he’s most famous for: an horrific accident that defined the concept of losing for generations of sports fans. Yet he moved on. He didn’t let his past constrain or define him. He got back to what he loved as soon as he was able. And when he couldn’t do that anymore (he retired in 1971), he found success doing something else that brought him joy.

There’s a lesson for all of us in his amazing story, but I’m gonna focus on me for just a moment. I have done some terrible things in my past. I made some bad decisions, that ended up hurting anyone who loved me. The disease of addiction did quite a number on me, and those closest to me. But today, I am able to make better decisions because I’m clean. I’m able to learn from the mistakes of my past, and take those lessons into a better future. The folks that I hurt might never forgive nor forget the harm I did, but I choose not to let my past define me. I’m moving forward with my life; and who knows what awaits me?!? Why, perhaps someday I could be just as famous as a certain Slovenian ski jumper… don’t laugh, it could happen! But even if it doesn’t, I’m trying to make my life, and to some extent, the lives of others; just a little bit better, one day at a time.

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say, “It’s not how many times you fall that defines you, it’s how many times you get back up.”

Peace… and VICTORY.

“To be yourself is all that you can do, yeah; to be yourself is all that you can do…” – “Be Yourself”, Audioslave

Hey, y’all; welcome to “The Uncharted Path”!!! I’m Olivia, and I figured something out… to love myself, (as I’ve been trying to) I would have to know myself. When I was using (I’m clean today, thank goodness), I was such a follower. All I really cared about then was getting high, so I didn’t care about loving myself, or even knowing myself in any way. Since starting my journey, I’ve learned a lot; and changed a little bit, too.

Case in point… I have a coworker named Gloria, and I consider her a good friend. And, since nearly EVERYTHING is a song cue with me, into my mind (at work) pop the three completely different songs (by three different artists) entitled “Gloria”. And then, I thought of the other song titles I know, with multiple different songs by different artists… which I could add here, but it would take up too much space. Suffice to say, that there are a few (and later on, I realized that I had forgotten a couple…); but I soon began to smile broadly, figuring out that the volume of musical knowledge was a VERY special thing indeed.

I got into music at a very early age; and in high school, I began to run around with one ‘friend’ (who my parents never liked.) I hung around him mostly because he knew where to find drugs, but he also had a large music collection… over 1,000 vinyl albums. He would tape some of those records, and I would bring some of my cassettes (I eventually amassed over 700 of them, including mixtapes); and we would drive around, drinking, smoking, trying to find more drugs, and wasting time. This went on for decades, until the ‘friendship’ fell apart over a girl. <shrug > The point is, that I learned quite a lot about music from driving around and listening to it like that; and for whatever reason, THAT was knowledge that I held onto. And that knowledge grew, until the day at work when a coworker’s name made me think of so much different music… and I wasn’t the only person who thought it remarkable to have that depth of musical knowledge.

Normally, I would’ve been the only one who remarked on it, but I have another coworker who knows a little about music herself. I appeared to have stunned her with my demonstration of musical knowledge, and that made me think. I realized that that knowledge was a part of me; and that that was a pretty good thing. The more I thought about it, the better I felt about myself, and about knowing those particular bits of esoterica. I’d been trying to work on being more positive; and that effort might’ve provided the basis for the good feelings I experienced. After all, I’d had the knowledge, but never really felt like it was anything special. Because I felt more positive about myself, I felt more positive about that knowledge, and more positive about having that knowledge. Being myself, was suddenly pretty good.

The more I learn who I am, the more I’ll learn to accept the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of myself. For the moment, though; life is pretty sweet.

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say, “If you throw a duck at someone who’s not looking, how do you warn them?”

Peace… and KNOWLEDGE.

“Start meditating, feel elevated and say; I love my body, I love my skin, I am a goddess, I am a queen…” – Jessie J, “Queen”

Dear Olivia:

First off, I want to apologize to you, for taking soooooo long to connect the dots. I’m sorry for not understanding sooner. For FAR too long, I hated you and wished you dead. I was absolutely, positively, unquestionably WRONG, and I’m sorry for treating you so horribly.

When I first saw you, I was about fourteen… although I think that on some level, you were always there. I was confused, I was frightened, I had absolutely no idea what to think or do. I think that the things that were going on in my minuscule world at the time, were what colored my first narrow perceptions of you. I was told, by those who meant well enough, “Boys don’t do that. Boys don’t act like that.” To my limited knowledge, that was what I was; and I didn’t question a thing… until I felt you in my heart.

I had always thought that I was a smart kid, so I did what a smart kid would do… I went to the library. (There was no internet when you first intimated your existence.) I read, and I read; and I read some more. Previously unknown words like “transexual” were defined there in black-and-white; and you read right along with me. As I grew, you began to appear more often. I learned more and more about who I was, and the veneer between you and I began to slowly dissolve, almost imperceptibly.

When I was nineteen, you begged me to accept you… and I couldn’t. I was too afraid, even with all that booklearning; to accept you as myself,  denying what I had thought I was in the process. I was scared of change, even though change is a necessity for growth. I was frightened of being different, even though I was already a misfit; or so I felt. I had already begun to try and drug you away, taking anything and everything that I could get my hands on; just so I didn’t have to face you, and the way you made me feel. Somehow, I got the mistaken notion that even death itself would be a better alternative than the sweeping changes required to bring you into sharper focus. I attempted suicide then; and thankfully, I failed. Looking back on it, I’ve never been so grateful to completely fail at something I’ve tried.

I let my fear consume my reason, and I began to use drugs in earnest; trying to force you out of my mind. I was only middlingly successful in doing so. One thing remained constant, though… you never let go of my heart. Through it all, you persisted; which caused me quite a lot of emotional pain… but keeping up a façade as I was, will do that to a person. I still hated you, and wished you dead. I was a misguided missile, hell-bent on destroying everything that was dear to me; everyone who had ever shown me even the slightest hint of friendship, love or compassion. I kept trying to get rid of you, but you stayed through it all; a sad captive of sorts, locked away in my heart of hearts. But you were a survivor, the likes of which I couldn’t fathom. You bided your time.

When I was forty-eight, I entered the hospital, with blood clots in my upper right arm. You saw your chance. I was now the captive, and you presented your compelling case for existence. I was powerless. You removed all doubt, all choice in the matter. There was no denying you anymore. You kicked down the door to my soul, and made yourself at home. You knew that I’d take a while to adjust to being you, for the focus to sharpen, for both the horizontal and vertical hold knobs to be adjusted just right, and to get the contrast to where I could see the image properly. You waited, and you came out slowly at first; then you made your big splash on June 17th, 2015. I was just starting to clean up after the “previous tenant”… he’d left quite a mess in trying to push you away. When you first revealed yourself to me, you made me understand what an utter shambles the drugs had made of my life; but I didn’t fully grasp that there was a better way to live, until I began outpatient drug treatment. My folly became starkly apparent there, and I also began to gain a grain or two of acceptance from others. What I didn’t have, and have been seeking for decades, was acceptance of myself, from myself.

That leads us here, to this ridiculously tiny apartment in San Antonio, Texas. Last night, in this pinhole burn of a space, I had an epiphany. There’s a saying in the 12-step program that I’m a member of: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results.” Last night, I realized that for decades, I had hated you and wanted you dead; yet I still sought to love myself. I finally connected the dots. I understand now: love is a verb. I’d hated you for so long, I didn’t know anything else. But now I see the cold, hard truth. Hating you never got me anywhere. Thanks to the program, I’ve become open-minded enough to be honest about things, and willing enough to try something completely different.

If I want you to love me, I have to love you. I have to let you know, every day, in every way; how much I love you. That’s already begun, in a way… I’ve started looking directly into your eyes each morning, and telling you straight out: “I love you! I have faith in you! You’re smart! You’re beautiful! You’re worthy! You can DO this!” And I’ll KEEP saying these words; obvious words which I should have made into a mantra DECADES ago, until you believe them. Until you believe in me… in yourself.

I’m also going to treat you better; by getting the proper amount of sleep, eating better, getting a little exercise, and even (audible gasp) quitting smoking. I’m not ready for that one just yet, but I’ll do it! You deserve to be treated like the goddess you are. You deserve to shine brightly, and I’m truly sorry that I tried to dim your light for so very long. You are the best thing ever to happen to me, and it’s time for me to show my love and appreciation.

Olivia, I really hope that you can forgive all the wrong I’ve done to you. I can provide you a veritable Swiss Army knife of excuses for why I acted the way I did; but they all really boil down to one inescapable thing: FEAR. For so very long, I was afraid to be you. I’ve lived most of my life afraid of one thing or another; trying simply to exist, because I was afraid to LIVE. I have to suppress a slight chuckle, because that’s your nickname… Liv. You’ve always had a great sense of humor, Olivia; and I’m sure that you see the irony.

If I want you to love me, I have to make it abundantly clear to you how much I love you. I need to remove all doubt, all choice in the matter; just like you did when you came out. I hope that you forgive me my past (which I’m still cleaning up after), and embrace the love I’m going to shower you with. You deserve love, you’re worthy of love, and it’s high time that you GET the love that you’ve sought for your entire life. I love you, Olivia; and I’m grateful that you stayed. Thank you!!!

Sincerely, Me

Tune in next time, when we’ll hear Olivia say, “It’s not easy to open your heart and bleed all over a blank page…”

Peace… and HOPE.