Ms Emma's random gender thoughts

Thanks, Kasey! I love hugs! :icon_bigg Here's a big 'un right back at you all! (&&&)

So, Friday is in the books. I learned an important lesson in perspective today. I was at court, waiting not-so-patiently for our turn to argue some motions on a real b.s. case that shouldn't even be at trial, when the following happened:

I watched a relatively young black man, about 30 or so - maybe 35, but that's pushing it - get led into the courtroom in handcuffs, bound around the waist, and leg restraints. He shuffled quietly to the podium and his attorney - a mousey, over-worked, harried white man in his late 40's - joined him. So far, not terribly unusual. The quiet, young defendant was hard to hear and was asked to speak up. That's when I actually started listening to what was happening.. He was entering a plea of guilty to 2d degree murder. He had shot someone and ended their life. He was accepting responsibility for it. As I listened further, I heard the judge confirm there was no plea deal. No protection. No cap on what the sentence the judge could mete out for his crime. This is definitely unusual... Especially for a felony murder case. This 30 year old, give-or-take, just admitted in open court to killing another man and is now facing 45 years to life in prison. His entire life-and-a-half is the minimum of the sentencing range. I was floored at the gravity of what he was doing.

Despite my reaction and my years of experience in trying cases, I had no idea what was coming next. Typically, sentencing involves a presentation of both the prosecution's matters in aggravation (all the bad stuff about the crime and how it impacted the victim, family, etc) and then the defense's case in mitigation and extenuation... (The why and how our client got to the bad place where he made such a poor decision and then how he'll never make those decisions again.) In the case I was watching today, the State offered no witnesses, but provided written victim impact statements and other documentary evidence in aggravation. My jaw dropped to the floor when the mousey, over-worked defense attorney then said "the defense has no evidence of witnesses to present in sentencing." None. Not a letter from mom, a coach, pastor, or even an oral statement from the defendant expressing remorse and how this has been a life-changing, pivotal moment for him that has opened his eyes to the wayward path he was on. Nothing. Not-a-fucking-shred-of-evidence.

The defendant just bowed his head, his short dreds dangling, shoulders slumped, while he waited on the judgment of the Court. His attorney nervously fumbled with his pen. It seemed to me that the judge wasn't quite sure what to think of this... Professional incompetence? Brilliant strategy? I wasn't privy to the facts of this particular case, so I can only speculate why the defense attorney and client chose this path. Maybe this was the best call, I don't know, but it was a first in over 10 years of trying cases. I was so wrapped up in my head, thinking "why on earth would someone do that? OMG!" that I completely missed what the judge sentenced him to. I was brought out of my trance only by the sharp ringing of the gavel, which seemed to echo more this time than others - sending out its energy and message to the world as a dire warning.

What does this have to with my random gender musings, me venting about moving out, and the errata that fills our life? This tragic story of really two lives lost caused me to think about what was most important in my life... how would I want my story told if I was that victim? What about me, defines me? Would I be reduced to a few pages of victim impact statements or would my absence cause a void that is unmistakable because of the impact I had *during* life, not simply because of my passing. I thought of my kids and how on earth I could protect them, both from physical violence but also the emotional turmoil that often goes with loss. I even thought of Shovel, and how our problems pale in comparison to others. Ultimately as it pertains to gender stuff, I want the world I interact with to know me as Emma and I want to help others who are trying to find their whole self.

Thank you, Mr. Defendant, for providing me an opportunity to have some insight and clarity of purpose. I hope he finds redemption.

So, wherever you are in this digital land that is EC, know that you are loved. You are valuable. Know that perspective comes with time and experience. Remember to not sweat the small stuff - and, in perspective, it's all small stuff.

I have a small favor to ask of you all this weekend. Physically tell someone you love that you love them and give them a hug. No cursory pats on the back... A hug with gentle pressure. (There's a difference, I promise) Hold them as long as you can - until it almost feels uncomfortable, and then just a tad bit longer. Family, bestie, spouse, BF/GF, whomever... Make a physical and emotional connection with someone important in your life.

Much love,
Emma
(&&&)

 

Today, as I was at the house (not *my* house anymore or *home*), we were getting ready to go to A2's school performance... before coming in, I had waited in the car for a bit because I was a tad misty... anywho, we are around the kitchen island and the kids go upstairs to finish getting ready. T (Shovel) turns ever so calmly to me and says, "Russ, your mascara is running."

I could have sworn I had cleaned off all my makeup from the night prior going to my trans support group, but alas... no. The good news is that Shovel didn't flip out or make this into some sort of betrayal. Instead, just a calm corrective comment. I simply replied "Thanks." and turned to the mirror by the dining room table to remedy the error. Problem solved. (?)

We shall see come the next counseling session, methinks.

Love to you all!

 

<vent>

I'm so impatient today... My doc put in the referral for a endocrinologist what feels like forever ago (reality check: less than 2 weeks) and I still haven't gotten an appointment!! I know some of you, especially in the UK, have to wait soooo long to even see a gender therapist so I know I'm being a Ms. Stupid-face McWhiny-pants but I really, really feel like I'm going to scream if I don't get this eff'ing appointment soon.

</vent>

Log this under Irrational, Emotional Emma.

 

:bang:

 

LOL.. If only I lived in Poland, spoke Polish, and knew Polish law - I'd totally be your lawyer But seriously, those laws suck. Wow. My little pity party pales in comparison. Sending big hugs to you, Irisviel!

 

Laying here in my new apartment, I get to wear yoga pants. O. M. G. I now know why us girls wear them everywhere (not that we should, but I totally get it).

With points deducted for bras being uncomfy (but a plus for pretty and sexy) and shoe prices, I'd have to say girls are winning the clothes war.

 

Yeah! No derailing at all.. Nice share!