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First Meeting: Oh, Your Scott, Not Kellie? Ok, Come On In!
A true story that will help parents understand why so many gay and lesbian children gravitate to becoming transgender. Not acknowledging the truth leads to a generation of gays and lesbians butchering bodies and minds that need not be fixed.
Love and acceptance is a must, and only the prescription is required.
Before I begin, I want to assert that this post is raw, real, and comes from a place of total honesty. We all have a voice inside our heads that helps us navigate through the world. Our internal voice can be denied if we are embarrassed and raised when it's correct, "I always knew I was right about, blank." We all know about this little voice, which is ours to hold tight inside within the confounds of our minds. I am sharing my inside voice with you not out of frailty but from a place of force.
I cannot tell you indefinitely why kids are claiming to be transgender at a staggering rate, but I know a massive part has to do with the fact that we still do not accept gays and lesbians yet, and we need to. On the other side of this revelation lies what my community has done with the acceptance we have already garnered, throwing it to the wind and lacking the leadership to STOP the new LGBTQ+ from becoming a recruiting agency for children. We won the rights that we have with slow persistence, grace and explaining that we were not after children, just after the rights to live where we wanted, work where we wanted and love who we wanted, and have protection under the law.
We WON and look at us now.
We have become precisely what we promised we would never be; a recruiting agency for children infiltrating school systems worldwide. Yet, here I say we have not accepted homosexuality yet, and this is the most significant cause of the butchering of an entire generation of children, the "May I have a hamburger today and pay you next Tuesday for the year worth of free hamburgers you have already given." It is embarrassing to say these words, but I can assure you, in the gay/lesbian community, we are fighting back fiercely with organizations like mine and Gays Against Groomers!
We will make it right!
That said, I will share why I believe many children and adults want to change genders. My insight is not scientific, which comically mirrors the whole definition of what transgender is, right? You might be laughing. Still, as someone who has medically transitioned, my laughter is zilch regarding what we are doing to a generation of children. I can assure you nothing comical about what is currently occurring to children!
A Transition Story, A True Story & Why I Believe So Many Children Are Claiming To Be Transgender!
I don't believe Jesus Christ was the son of God, but that doesn't make me a version of their evil.
I don't think children should be anywhere near surgery or hormones; I don't care how transgender they believe they are.
I believe the LGBTQ+ community has back-handed the entire world into submission, standing by foaming at the mouth, waiting impatiently to pounce on anyone who challenges their views, delighted in doing so. But I understand the cause, the pain, and the generation after generation of misery that gays and lesbians have been put through.
I believe people are born gay, but some are conditioned into same-sex attraction, and this is not right, and therapy is needed to correct it. I might have been manipulated to change my sex by a highly religious Catholic woman that could not accept her sexuality, but that doesn't mean that some people do find peace with medical transition (very few, and people would be stunned how few this number is)
I have always been able to reach both sides; I was blessed with the ability to see both sides of the circumstances. But, I didn't comprehend that inside an organization, a belief, a person you hate is common ground and someone exquisite, frightened and with something invaluable to say. I only understood the earnestness of this once I transitioned.
Lesbian Devil to Straight Man Saint
They wanted to do an intervention on a woman that finally understood why she never felt the love she saw her friends experience. Until me, she went through the motions with her husband, despising her life and feeling apathetic, only to come alive with that first sip of wine. She laughed and giggled and seemed like the most festive person, but she was tragic once you knew her. Such a depressed person, a woman that looked like the sunshine of light, was the darkest human being I had ever met.
I listened to her phone calls with her family spewing hate, imploring her to be cleansed and get rid of her demons, exploiting her with the thought of spending an eternity in hell for loving me. I can say that I loathed those people, Lynette's people, with every fibre of my being. I knew they comprehended the suffering they were causing her and didn't care. Convinced, they only wanted the flawlessly straight, elegant Catholic woman to return to a husband she didn't love, never loved; they didn't care that she was distressed; they didn't care that she couldn't breathe without me. They cared only about getting her back into a box that made them feel comfortable.
I medically transitioned to take that all away for her, or I have always believed this was the only explanation. Reflection and time have revealed to me that Lynette? Lynette was a catalyst; sure, I would never have medically transitioned if we had never met, but the raw reasoning why? It would have simmered, never allowing me to find peace. This experience has brought me a peace I would never have achieved without all the misery. A new revelation, and I can tell my soul is healing. As bizarre as it may sound, I am appreciative of this adventure with all the anguish, pain and tears it resurrected!
I never met Lynette's family as a woman; they had seen pictures but never shook Kellie's hand, the lesbian devil. No, no, I met them for the first time as Scott, the straight man saint, swerving Lynette from reciprocating her sinful past with the lesbian devil, Kellie. As you can imagine, the first handshake, the first eyes that met mine, her entire family comprised eight brothers and one sister, a 93-year-old mother, nieces, nephew and spouses, all in a tiny home in the middle of the scorching heat of little ole, Bryan, Texas.
I have dedicated my life to STOP childhood medical transition, travelling from state to state, country to country, by the grace and kindness of donations. I do not get paid for interviews or my posts for me. This is a soul mission. Thank you for helping. -Scott - Donate
Terrified, Lynette opened the door with me standing behind, scared of my voice, "is it deep enough yet? Will they know that I'm Kellie, and they all HATE me?" Over and over in my head were the conversations Lynette had while we lived in our apartment together years prior when she left her husband; the phone was relentless, one call after another reminding Lynette of her sinful life, where it would lead her and how she needed to run from me with all her power. Yet, when the calls ended? I was the one she flew to; I was the one she loved and could not let go of. Everything her childhood had guided her, all the hours in church, all the lessons, and warnings could not stop her from falling in love with me and me with her! At fifty, Lynette reminded me of a child, torn down to the nubs, unable to protect herself, she was being beaten down, and it was obvious to anyone looking. Unfortunately, I was the only one who was looking at Lynette.
On the drive over to Bryan, I heard Lynette giggling, changing the stations, tormenting me with her 80's music, delighting in my cringing, and I played along, but inside? All I was pondering was meeting her family, the family I knew I would hate. How would I navigate our lives within the inlaws I loathed? I had no other option; hate was the only emotion my mind went to, nothing else, no other choice; I would hate them all! The hours of conversation I heard, over and over in my head, the torment and pain in Lynette's face, watching as she was pulled apart years prior by every family member waiting to meet me as a saint, savior to Lynette, saving her from the lesbian devil!
Hate, I would hate them ALL!
But something happened.
It wasn't long before I fell in love with everyone in Lynette's family. The care, humor, the love they had for each other, the respect they had for me, the time they invested in each other, no one yelled, hit each other or talked ill of the other; they navigated life as a family, something I had never seen in my 42 years. It was beautiful.
Lynette's mother was 93 and remained in her home as any good Italian Catholic family would. Every child had a designated time to be with their mother, spending the night, helping Mawma in and out of bed, making her meals, and doing it with her standards, or they were corrected instantly. She was stern and always did what was expected, someone you could count on, and I loved her. Her children grew weary of the constant re-aligning even though they were in their 50s, 60s, 70s; she would not have anyone out of line! "Now, pull that curtain in, Lynette; that is wrong. Do as I said!"
When one sibling could not make their night to care for their mom, I always raised my hand; "I will watch Mawma." I think they all thought I was crazy. What I saw in their mother was a woman who did everything as she was told because it was what she believed was right; the stern overtone was not to demean her children; she did it because she loved them. Mawma gave her everything to her family, she loved her children, and I could see it in a way they could not because I came from a childhood filled with abuse. Mawma to me? She was everything I prayed for as a child; I got my wish, I was just in my 40s and no longer a child, but it still felt like a head nod from God, a gift.
"Scott, what are you doing?" I'm getting on this side of the bed; tell me more about your husband, Mawma. "Oh, all right?" Mawma would continue “You love my daughter, don't you, Scott?" I reply "Yes, very much." "Do you talk with Lynette like this, care for her this way?" I replied, "Yes, I do!"
What did I see in Mawma? She was a true mother, and I was blessed to know her. The day my daughter read on the internet, she died; I instantly wept, unable to stop, and my daughter as well. May you rest in peace, Mawma; we loved you!
My far reach to see both sides became vastly wider with this experience. People I knew I would hate turned into love almost instantly. I loved each one of them, and I still do. I watched them with their children, and I learned about their lives and struggles and their belief system; I began to understand why they felt the way they did. The experiences they had mixed in with the blessing of being born normal became who they were. They couldn't comprehend what Lynette was feeling; how could they ?I loved them, and I still do, and I miss them, but I went from Lesbian Devil to Straight Man Saint to just something they laugh at while eating dinner, the weirdo transgender person.
I remember the night like it just happened. I remember the air, the desperation. I wanted to save her from what she went through the years before when she was trying to break free from her former life's hold on her. I wanted to save her from her soon-to-be ex-husband's phone calls that lasted for hours and hours, pounding and pounding her with terror about how it would feel on her flesh when Satan burned her into a never-ending pit of fire. I wanted to save her from looking at me and being so in love but conflicted with the voices in her head.
I never in my life experienced someone told over and over repeatedly that he was not loved like a wife should love a husband and that she loved another and wanted another. Still, he refused to let go, even though he knew it would cause her pain. Mark did not care.
It was cruel.
Some in her family thought of it as a devoted Catholic man, but from the inside looking out, it was self-indulgent and hurtful, he was breaking her down, and he knew it. He didn't care; he wanted her back; she filled a locality in his life that gave him pleasure. He refused to succumb, and he was prepared to do what it took, even if the cost was splitting her limb from limb. He would do what he had to do to get what he wanted, so the brutal device to pull her limbs off was strapped down and administered, and once the pulling began, it didn't take long for him to succeed. With the help of her family spewing words and creating an image of her flesh burning in a fiery pit of hell, it was useless; she could not resist.
Lynette would start conversations with her husband on the phone, standing, shoulders back, and ready to take on the challenge. Within 15 minutes, her body would shrink into a ball in the corner of a room, and the self-sufficient woman echoed like a child browbeaten; it was awful to watch.
The dynamic was as if I watched a child scolded by her Dad. Lynette didn't speak; she just listened, nodded, and agreed with submissive shrieks of recognition. Lynette couldn't even discuss it; she just winced and endured the storm until Mark felt his position made and opinion received as the only truth.
It was a strange relationship with her ex-husband; it wasn't normal; it matched the movie "The Truman Show." All the streets were decorated, the clothes ironed, but something was missing, and Truman knew that just as Lynette did.
Lynette had doubted her ex-husband's sexuality before they married but threw it aside. He fit; he fit all the things to look for in a man. They were not in love, and they had never been, and you don't desire what you never knew you had. So, the years went on, and Lynette recommenced to question his sexuality and found his characteristics off but never stirred because to discover someone on an intimate level, you must have the ability to be intimate. Affection was absent, always was with their marriage.
Before I first left Lynette, before my transition, when I was still Kellie, something hit me like a ton of bricks. You see, I had endured the numerous conversations with Lynette, by her side, listening to Mark's phone calls and her family, and I felt as battered as she did. But our love was beyond what I had ever experienced. Most would have left much earlier, but neither one of us could part. This morning, Lynette leaned over and rested her head on my chest and glanced into my eyes. I noticed how calm and at peace she was, embracing me. Her eyes, her brown eyes, I have never understood how an uncomplicated color like brown could make eyes dance as she could with hers. As her breathing began to rhythm, in sleep is when it hit me.
She can't do it
These words traversed my eyes, and I shook out of bed. It was at that moment that I knew that I had to leave. I knew at that moment Lynette would not be able to live a genuine life with me; she didn't have it in her, and her husband and family were NEVER going to let her live in peace. Staying with her was not the right thing to do for her, me, or her husband, for that matter.
I did my best and left the apartment. I tried to remain solid, but the texts from Lynette with pictures of hearts or her intoxicating body would lure me to her bed. As she was packing to go back to her husband, she was seducing me; while going to marriage classes at night, she was making love to me during the day.
At this time, I lost it; I couldn't take the lies, the deceit; everything was too much. I have never understood how Lynette could lie to everyone, and it never got to her; for me, it was something that broke me. I packed my family and moved 1000 miles away. I wanted Lynette; Lynette wanted me, but I knew it was never going to happen, and I didn't want to put her through what I saw her husband doing. My intentions were good, but the reality was nothing how I wanted to act.
It had been two years since we ended our affair, and she went back to her husband. I was a mess in those two years. I would go from crying from missing her to insanely pissed off that she went back because I told her to. I knew deep down that no matter how much she loved me, how much she needed me, how much she wanted me, she was never going to be able to be authentic. I didn't want to torture her the same way, but differently than her husband and family had.
Authenticity has never been something Lynette has been able to accomplish. Finely crafted lies to keep the nicely furnished life she created was a full-time job for her, and she was obsessed, and I have never been one to live unauthentic. Back then, I was angry at Lynette for not breaking out of the box everyone had built for her. With new eyes, I understand she did what she was able to do and, it didn't matter how much she loved me; she didn't have to tools to live life with the white light of transparency.
In the two years we were apart, I survived, not well, but I survived. Every two to three months, Lynette would contact me, profess her love, and tell me she was ready, and she was going to tell her husband and family she was a lesbian and she was coming to me. The next day she would disappear; it was one of, if not the most painful times in my life. It all made me feel crazy. I would send texts obsessively asking if she was ok, concerned that something might have happened to her. Then her number would change, and I'd get a call from her best friend telling me she was going back to her husband, and they had just left for some tropical vacation.
When she would do that to me, it felt cruel, cold, and accustomed to expecting it. We were like children sneaking out of our house at night, and our parents would find us ground us from speaking to each other. I think back on this differently, and I understand how cold this was for Lynette to do. She couldn't handle being with me, but she didn't want to lose me. Lynette cruelty was in the highest form, and it was not the most significant reason our marriage didn't work. I was insanely angry with her, but I never expressed it; I swallowed it.
Lynette led the dance, and both Mark and I followed; she was always the single factor to all this pain. This got so bad that I would tell her husband whenever Lynette reached out to me. Of course, he didn't believe me, but I have never lied to Mark. I have been the only one who has never lied to him.
Some days I would open a bottle of wine to finish it and wake up the next morning horrified with emails I would write to her husband about how awful he was. They were disgusting; no one deserves the words I would say to him. People just don't need to know some things, even if they are the truth. I didn't understand what he was going through; I didn't allow myself to see what Lynette and I were putting him through. He was fighting his truth; our truth was blind to him, and he was to us. Funny how that works when you must swallow passion, anger, betrayal, love, hate, longing, and confusion to get smashed together in one bite.
Somewhere in my heart, I knew what Lynette was doing was wrong. She wanted me but didn't want anyone to know and was so focused on what others thought of her; she ripped apart two people and one that she professed to be heaven-sent to her.
Ya me, crazy, huh?
After two years, she returned to me, finally left her husband, and I could tell something was different. This entire fiasco weighed heavily on us all, and her husband was pushed further than anyone should be, but we all were in different ways. He finally pushed back one night after too much to drink, and Lynette's face was where he lost it. He had never been physical with her before, but it was all too much. Her husband could tell she didn't want to be with him; she was there out of obligation, familiarity, to please her family, to fit in, to enjoy the more beautiful things money could buy. But not because she was in love with him.
When Lynette went back to Mark, he tried with all he had to bring passion to their marriage. He read all the right books, made all the right reservations, attempted all the right positions in life emotionally and physically, but the passion was never there. That is the crazy thing about the passionate side of love; you can't will it. A couple either has it, or they do not.
When she came back to me after that night, we both were exhausted. We just wanted to love each other, that's all. I had spent my whole life being judged as a lesbian, criticized, understanding that the first conversations with strangers that I wanted to get to know would eventually lead to the, "So, when did you know you were a lesbian." I was exhausted, Lynette was exhausted. Love can only take so much; love cannot conquer all; we are the proof. The night I decided to transition was a decision that was made soon into our reunion *** That night, I call it a night, because it was the night that changed everything, everything changed.
I was watching TV, and I heard Lynette talking with her son. Her son was getting married, and they were pregnant and expecting Lynette's first grandchild. Everyone was so excited; I could see it on Lynette's face when she would talk to anyone about the baby. Suddenly, the laughter stopped, and silence began. I yelled up the stairs.
"Lynette, is everything ok."
No response, my face twinged with confusion, and I made my way to her. When I turned the corner to the bedroom, I saw her. Her face had lost all color and turned grey. I ran to her and grabbed her hands, and looked at her directly in the eyes, and she said,
What if my son doesn't allow me to see my grandbaby if they find out I'm a lesbian?
My heart sank. I could not allow that to happen. That was the night I decided to transition for her children for her family. I loved her that much. What I do know about this entire experience is that we were all at fault. I should have walked away eight to nine years ago and never let this start. Lynette should have faced her demons instead of emotionally ripping two people apart. Mark should have allowed Lynette to leave him in peace; she was not a possession that completed his perfectly decorated home. No one did the right thing, and I'm left with looking into the mirror every day, not knowing who's reflection I am looking at ***
If I was to sit down with Mark and talk to him, I bet I would understand that he is left with scars that he didn't deserve as well. Very few people in this world are evil; I am not one, Mark is not one, and Lynette is not one.
I am remorseful for many reasons; I did many things wrong, and they have eaten at me since the beginning. I could never express these to Lynette because it was always about her throughout the whole process. Saving her, ensuring her lies were kept, I agreed to things like marriage counseling and camps understanding her and Mark were attending so she could prove to him they were not in love and not meant for each other.
I agreed to the dates she would go on with Mark when we were living together to prove that they were not good together. I had to sit in the apartment and wait for her to get back from these dates that Mark would plan to win her back. Mark didn't know it was all a ploy; it was cruel. This was awful to do someone, and I agreed to it, and it ate and ate at me and still does to this day.
The lies and deception and the amount I had to swallow to be with her were too much. It's a strange feeling looking at someone you love and wanting to scream at the top of your lungs, "Why did you do this to us, me and Mark? WHY!" Things I remember haunt me. The time I told her to go back to Mark initially and calling her to see when I could pick my stuff up from the apartment, and she giggled, "When we get another place, I am going to put up the pictures; you put too many holes in the walls." I wish at the time I could have told her,
"Lynette, that's cruel, do you know that? Do you know that you want to keep me with you just enough so that you don't lose me?"
Telling me repeatedly that you know that God wants us together, and that's why you see so many hearts, and you send me those pictures. Do you know that's cruel? That's cruel to me, and that's cruel to Mark. Do you know it's insensitive to Mark going back to him to prove to him that you guys aren't good together? "Do you know that's cruel and wrong? It's offensive to tell me that you can't be in a relationship with a woman, but you can't be without me. Do you know these things, the cruelty?"
Looking back, I can see that Mark and I were played like fiddle, both of us. The center point of the cruelty started with Lynette. The further I get away, the more remorse I feel and the tremendous sense of regret I have. The sorrow and guilt dial point the most to Mark. Mark had no idea what was happening, and Lynette was not strong enough to be honest, if she were just honest from the beginning with herself, she would have never married Mark. Mark was a backup plan and always has been for Lynette, and the cruelty of that alone is astronomical.
Lynette wasted ten years of my life, and she wasted even more of Mark's life by not being honest. Mark will always be Lynette's back up plan; he has the finances and experience she desires, and as cruel as it is to say it; it's the truth. In all of this, I pray for Marks' happiness. However, it is that he finds it. Sure, he wasn't perfect, but he was blindsided, lied to, manipulated, and used. I hope Mark figures out who he is and what it takes for him to be happy, and I hope he finds it. If Mark were in front of me today, I would say one thing and one thing alone,
"I am sorry."
To Lynette: I forgive you; I hope you find whatever you need to be happy in this life, but please be honest; it's the only way anyone ever finds peace. You might be surprised by how people you love will react. Let your family and children know who you are because they deserve the real Lynette. You have to stop lying to people to create a false reality; in the end, it hurts people.
In conclusion, I tell this story to help people understand that transgenderism has become reverse bigotry to gays and lesbians. We have pre-teens not understanding that same-sex attraction and transgenderism are not the same. We have straight parents that don't grasp that every homosexual person at some time in their lives wanted to be the opposite sex, to be the same, and just fit in. We are creating a Disney fairy tale ending for kids that does not exist.
by, Scott Newgent
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