What's in a name?

I've become fascinated by names recently. Most people are more or less stuck with whatever name their parents gave them at birth, but those of us who transition have the great luxury of choosing how we will be known to the world.

It's something that requires a lot of thought; names like Fantasia L'Amour and Amanda B. Reckondwit are fun, but they're probably not the sort of thing you want on your resume when you apply for that big corporate job. Please note: "Social" is not my real last name (duh!); it was a joke when I needed something for a Yahoo ID. Annie Social = Antisocial. It was funny at the time; I guess you had to be there.

Of course, those who have gender-neutral names such as Kim or Leslie don't have to change at all; they are able to avoid the expense and hassle of going through the courts. But they don't have the fun of choosing!

The easiest solution is the feminization (or masculinization) of your old name. Robert and Bob become Roberta and Bobbi, John becomes Joan, and Steven becomes Stephanie (or vice versa). There are only two problems with this approach: the new name may be uncomfortably close to your old name if you are trying to start a whole new life, and again, you don't have the fun of picking an entirely new one.

Some find out what their parents had planned to call them if they turned out to be the other sex; remember that some of us are old enough to have been born before it was common to know in advance what the baby would be. Others choose the name of a favorite relative or childhood friend or fictional character, or simply a name that they've always liked.

I think most of us, though, try to find a name with some special significance to us.

Several years ago I was researching my family history and came across a relative I hadn't known existed. She was a little girl named Annie, the daughter of my father's grandparents, and had died in 1880 at the age of 19 months.

She never appeared in any census records; she had been born and died between the years the census was taken. The only record of her was an inscription on a tombstone. She had been completely forgotten.

The thought of a little girl dying on the prairies of North Texas so long ago stuck in my mind. I found myself thinking of her often. When the time came for me to decide on a new name for myself, the choice was obvious. I became Ann Elizabeth. Ann E., or Annie.

That little girl was no longer forgotten; she had another chance at life, as did I.

Please tell me the story of your name; just click on "Comments" below.

She's free

My life has woven countless threads throughout these many years,
and now as I approach the end, I look back through the tears.
I see the pattern that they make, a picture of my past,
and now I see a change in me, too late, but here at last.

It's a picture of my loneliness, all dark and shadowed hues;
the choices made, the paths I took, the loves that I would lose,
the thoughts that made me live apart, all hidden deep inside,
the person who I never knew, the self that I denied.

But in one corner I can see a warm and golden light,
The person I was meant to be is coming into sight.
She bears the scars of all those years she lived inside of me;
her face is worn, her clothes are torn, but now at last she's free.

She knows she doesn't have much time, she's waited much too long;
for her to be what she must be, she knows she must be strong.
Her life won't be an easy one; she knows how it will be,
but through travail, she will prevail, for now at least she's free.
Thank God, at last she's free.

Beach Blanket Bingo

A few weeks ago, a support group that I belong to announced that, in lieu of a regular June meeting, the group would instead hold a big all-day beach party. It sounded like a wonderful event, with the promise of great weather, lots of food, and a ton of people having a good time, and the very thought of it struck terror in my heart!

Why? Why did my skin get clammy and my knees begin to shake every time it was mentioned? Because it meant that I would have to buy a swimsuit, and worse, I might even have to wear it! As I looked around the group, I could see that I wasn't the only one in distress.

You see, very few of us are perfectly secure with our bodies, especially those of us who are still in the early stages of transition. Think about it: even a lot of genetic women dread summer coming around, with the necessity of shorts and swimsuits. Imagine the angst in one who relies heavily on breast forms and shapers and pantyhose! Not to mention that some of us have never been anywhere except home and the safety of our meetings.

There's another issue as well: a lot of us are in the middle of having laser hair removal, and the laser practitioner has warned us over and over again, "No sun! Stay out of the sun! If you have to be exposed for a short time, wear the heaviest sunscreen you can find! But stay out of the sun!". Creeping paranoia begins to set in.

Of course, if you're at the beach, you're pretty much expected to get in the water at some point. In the water? In the water? Are you insane? Do you know what that will do to my makeup? And my wig! What about my wig?

The meeting room disappears in a wavy dissolve, and an image forms before me...

(Please note: the following is fantasy, making liberal use of stereotypes. It's a joke. Anyone complaining will be sent to the office with a note for being humor-impaired.)

The cars are circled like covered wagons, providing us with some slight protection from the outside world. Within the circle can be seen a forest of beach umbrellas, beneath which sit some 20 women wearing t-shirts over one-piece swimsuits with built-in skirts. Huge floppy hats and pitch-black sunglasses are everywhere.

The center of the circle is dominated by two items: a 40-gallon drum of SPF 40 sunblock, into which girls are taking turns dipping parts of their bodies,and a brick barbecue pit around which are gathered 8 or 9 FTMs, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and swearing. At one point, an extremely masculine-looking guy (who actually has very little experience being male) nearly sets his face on fire lighting the grill. He is saved when the shock wave from the fireball knocks him backwards before the flames can reach him.

Beneath one of the umbrellas, two girls are arguing over whether the salt water will cause their nylons to unravel, while another keeps peering nervously around her Ozzie Osborne sunglasses to see whether someone she knows might have chosen this day to come to the beach.

The guys eventually manage to burn the steaks well enough, and everyone grabs a plate; the girls each pick up enough napkins to wash a car. As the afternoon wears on (and the beer flows), a few brave souls venture briefly into the water, retreating before each incoming wave, then working their way back out again. Inevitably, someone falls asleep in the shadow of her umbrella, waking up hours later to find that the sun has moved and she is burned to the color of a steamed lobster. The sound of a ball game wafts from the window of a black SUV, the roof of which is hot enough to fry an egg. People gather in little groups under the umbrellas, comparing HRT dosages and being jealous of the one twenty-something who looks so good in the white bikini. One of the guys stops by; "Has anyone come across a gold loop earring? Janie lost one in the sand somewhere...".

As the sun starts to get low in the sky, people begin packing up like a circus moving on to the next small town. Each is thinking, "Well, that wasn't so bad; I actually had a lot of fun!".

At the next meeting, one of the girls will have "I Survived Tranny Beach Bash 2006" t-shirts.

In a perfect world...

We are all aware of the prejudice and intolerance that exists in society. Too many people believe that anyone different from themselves is somehow inferior, not deserving of the same rights and protections as themselves. We decry their bigotry, their smug dismissal of others. We, of all people, should be tolerant and accepting of diversity in our community.

Yet sometimes, we don't do so well ourselves.

Every group under the transgender umbrella seems to have a few individuals that dislike anyone unlike themselves: straight crossdressers bashing gays, transsexuals disliking crossdressers for creating a public perception of us as 'men in dresses', and drag queens making fun of transsexuals for not knowing how to do their makeup!

Even among transsexuals, there are rifts. At any gathering you'll hear it: "Older girls are overly concerned with clothes and appearance." "Young transitioners have it too easy." "Non-ops aren't truly TS; if they were, nothing would keep them from surgery." "Why in the world would you want to be a woman if you aren't attracted to men?" "And what's the deal with the Female to Male transsexuals; don't they realize they've got it made?"

Some of the differences are understandable when such diverse groups of people are lumped together under the banner of 'Transgender'; it's not surprising that straight crossdressers don't want to be considered gay, or that transsexuals don't want to be thought of as crossdressers. Everyone resents being labeled as something they're not.

The answer, however, is not to wish that all those others would just go away, to invalidate their lives and try to exclude them from the community. Rather, it is to try to promote understanding of our diversity among the public; to make them see that not all transsexuals work in porno films and go on Springer; that not all crossdressers hide in the closet and masturbate every time they put on a pair of panties, and that transgendered people come in all varieties: male and female, gay, straight, and lesbian, bisexual and asexual, short and tall, loud and quiet, shy and exhibitionistic.

In other words, that we are a lot like them.

"So, tell me about your childhood..."

Recently, I've heard a lot of people complaining about their therapists... how they put up unnecessary roadblocks, make the whole thing into some sort of competition, and just generally don't understand transgendered people.

I only have experience with one therapist, and after hearing all the horror stories, I feel I must be the luckiest girl in the world.

When it was time to find someone, I asked people in the area, made inquiries in some local Yahoo groups, and did numerous Google searches. One name came up over and over again; she had been working with TG patients for 20 years, founded the major support group in the area, knew just about everyone in the community, and her office was only a mile and a half from my home!

I called for an initial consultation, and when I asked about the fee, I was told that I was to pay what I could afford and thought it was worth. Amazed, I made the appointment.

From the first moment, I knew I had found the right person. It was clear that she understood what I was going through, and saw her job as helping me to understand it as well. We went through the things you would expect, such as history and attitudes and desires, but we also explored subjects like how to deal with family and friends, and reasonable expectations for HRT. She gave me the names of friendly doctors in the area, and once I decided it was time and asked, she sent the letter.

I never felt that I had to somehow prove to her that I was TS; she took my word for my feelings, and even pointed out how certain problems in my past could have been related to my identity issues. On reflection, I usually found she was right.

Throughout, she has been more of a guide than a gatekeeper, answering questions, educating me on what to expect and what works and what doesn't, even critiquing makeup and wardrobe choices. She's been there when I've needed a shoulder to cry on, and when I've wanted to brag.

Since starting HRT, my sessions with her are less frequent, and I sometimes find myself wishing they weren't!

That's what a therapist should be.

Position wanted

Well, I've taken another step. I've sent out 4 job applications in my new persona.

Needless to say, some creative editing of my resume was required. Everything on it is true; I just had to omit a few things that made it obvious that I wasn't Annie at the time! Even now, it's a rather odd resume for a woman my age... there are a few jobs listed in which it was pretty unusual to find a woman at the time. And of course, I removed the name of my current employer.

The real issue is what to do if and when I get responses. I've pretty much decided that the best way to handle it is to go through the emails and telephone conversations, then when it's time for an interview, say, "By the way, there's one little thing you ought to know..."

I'm not going to simply show up for an interview without warning them what to expect; I'm not that passable yet, and there are other issues to deal with such as the fact that my legal name change is still in the works. I'll also have to point out that nothing I'm doing is covered by insurance, so hiring me is not going to cause their rates to go up.

As best I can tell, none of the positions I've applied for involve dealing with the public, so if the employer is generally sympathetic, at least they can't say, "Well, I personally don't have a problem with it, but we have to consider what our clients may think..."

I'm not holding my breath; I know I'm going into this with a huge strike against me, but I have to try. Shifting back and forth every workday is an incredible strain, and I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. If I can find employment as myself, I will finally be able to kill off this guy I've been pretending to be for so long. When that time comes, I've decided to hold a wake; you are all invited!

Easy terms available

A few days ago, reading through one of the forums that I frequent, it struck me that we have more abbreviations, anagrams, and obscure terminology than NASA. In the interest of ameliorating the rampant obfuscation (!), I've decided to post this little guide to the terminology of transgenderism. I know I've left out a lot; leave me comments as to what should be added!

Sex - In this context, refers to the genitalia. As sex and gender are separate qualities, one can be of the male sex and the female gender. Indeed, it is this incongruity that defines transsexuality. Also, what all those guys in the Yahoo chat rooms are looking for.

Gender - The mental component of one's sexuality; that is, what you feel like inside, regardless of your plumbing. Someone of the female gender identifies as female, regardless of what type of genitalia they may have.

Orientation - Basically, who you're attracted to. Again, this is independent of sex or gender. It is not uncommon to be of the male sex, the female gender, and attracted to females. Or any other combination. Has nothing to do with emigrating to Asia.

TG - Transgender. An umbrella term, encompassing transsexuals, transvestites, crossdressers, drag queens/kings, intersexed persons, gender neutrals, androgynes, anyone who feels uncomfortable being classified as a specific gender, and Milton Berle.

CD - Crossdresser. One who dresses in the clothing of the opposite gender. Most crossdressers identify as their birth sex, and see their dressing as an expression of the feminine side of themselves. Many are heterosexual married males, whose spouses may or may not be aware and/or supportive of their dressing. Also, the shiny little disc you keep your photos on, so the kids won't find them when they're looking for their Spongebob Squarepants pictures.

TV - Transvestite. Similar to a crossdresser, except that there is usually a sexual component to their dressing; ie, they get aroused by it. Also, the place you watch the dozens of documentaries about us that seem to be released every week.

TS - Transsexual (sometimes Transexual with one S). One with an overwhelming need to live as the gender opposite that of their birth sex. May be diagnosed with GID (see below). Also, Top Secret (which, depending on where you are in your transition, may be the same thing).

GID - Gender Identity Disorder and...
GD - Gender Dysphoria. The diagnoses of transsexual persons that allows them to receive treatment, including therapy, hormone therapy, and sexual reassignment surgery. The debate continues as to whether it is proper to require someone to be labeled as having a mental disorder in order for them to receive treatment, but most of us are willing to go along with it if that's our only choice.

SOC - Standards of Care. The procedures suggested by the Harry Benjamin International Gender Dysphoria Association (HBIDGA), spelling out the hoops one must jump through to receive hormone therapy and/or surgery. Some see them as unreasonable roadblocks to receiving the treatment they want and need, others as a necessary safeguard to prevent every looney on the planet from rushing into surgery then suing the doctors a month later and making it impossible for any of us.

M to F - Male to Female Transsexual.

F to M - Well, duh... Female to Male Transsexual.

FFS - Facial Feminization Surgery. Any of a number of procedures aimed at countering the results of years of exposure to testosterone, including eyebrow lifts, brow bossing, chin sculpting, jawline reshaping, lip lifts, botox, rhinoplasty, dermabrasion and others. If you closely resemble Ernest Borgnine, this may be for you.

SRS - Sexual Reassignment Surgery or Sexual Reconstruction Surgery and...
GRS - Gender Reassignment Surgery. The procedure or procedures that replace a penis with a vagina (or vice versa). There are several different procedures, with recipients of each loudly proclaiming its superiority. SRS for F to M transsexuals is not very satisfactory with the current state of the art, while M to F surgery is very good, regardless of which technique is used. By the way, in M to F surgery, the penis is not "chopped off". It is either turned inside out, or disassembled and its parts used in the new construction.

GLBT - Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender, or...
LGBT - Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender; which one you use seems to depend on whether or not you're a lesbian.

HBIGDA - The Harry Benjamin International Gender Dysphoria Association See SOC above.

HRT - Hormone Replacement Therapy. The name comes from the regimen used to treat menopausal women, replacing hormones their bodies no longer make in sufficient quantities. For M to Fs, the regimen ususally includes a testosterone blocker, estrogen, and progesterone. Effects include breast development, redistribution of body fat, softening of the skin, a lessening of body hair (but not facial hair), and emotional changes. The effects can take several years to reach their maximum. HRT does not change the voice (dammit!).

Intersexed - A person who is born with ambiguous genitalia, not clearly either male or female, or with components of both. The term 'hermaphrodite' is now considered obsolete and somewhat insulting, and was rarely used accurately anyway.

RLT - Real Life Test or...
RLE - Real Life Experience. A period of one year living full time is a prerequisite for SRS under the HBIGDA SOC (now there's a handful of acronyms for you!).

IRS - Internal Revenue Service. The organization that has decided that none of your expenses for any of this stuff will be deductible.

S--male - The dreaded S-word! (I've dropped a couple of letters in hopes that this page won't be found by people Googling for porn.) Considered highly offensive, unless the person you're referring to works in the sex industry. The term was invented by the porn business, and some in that field self-identify that way. Nearly as bad is 'He-She', and 'Tranny' seems to be acceptable only when used by other transgendered persons (although some have no issue with it at all).

Therapy, or...
Counseling - This is usually the first step once you acknowledge to yourself that you are transgendered. A good therapist can help you discover your true self, and how far you need to go. She can help you along the way, providing critiques and tips, and can refer you to support groups. She also serves as the gateway to HRT and SRS, providing the needed letters to your doctors. A bad therapist can take all your money and leave you suicidal. Remember, your therapist works for you; if you're not happy with the way your case is being handled, find someone else.

Transition - The process of becoming the person on the outside that you know you are on the inside. Everyone is different in how and how far they will transition; for some, living part time is enough. For others, nothing short of surgery is acceptable. Typically, the process includes counseling, hormone therapy, living part time, voice training, hair removal, living full time (the real life experience), and SRS. Some may have FFS and/or breast augmentation. And whatever their process and timetable, you can be sure that they will think anyone who does it differently is nuts!

Raising eyebrows

For some time now I've been engaged in a rather odd bit of behavior that I really don't understand: being bound and determined to keep my situation a secret at work, at least until I have another job lined up, yet at the same time intentionally 'outing' myself in numerous small ways.

My job is just okay. It's in my field, but not a particularly creative or lucrative part of it. It doesn't pay well at all, and the pressure is pretty high at times.

Nonetheless, I need to keep this job. It took me forever to get it, and I have a great fear of being jobless again without any savings to fall back on. The one positive is that I have decent insurance, and with a few ongoing medical problems, keeping my insurance is just as important as keeping the job itself.

It's a small company, perhaps 12 employees, and is owned and run by two brothers. All decisions of hiring and firing are theirs, and they aren't exactly liberal in their outlook. Even if they were, there's another complicating factor: while we don't deal with the general public, I occasionally (once or twice a month) meet big clients, discussing their projects or demonstrating what we can do for them. If I were my employer, I would have reservations about placing a transitioning TS in that position. If one client takes offense, a lot of money goes away.

I don't know how they will react when the time comes, but I can't take any chances. Until I can line up a better position, one in which I can be myself, I need to do everything possible to hold on to this one. And yet...

I find myself doing things that make no sense at all. I haven't cut my hair in over a year, and it's starting to get close to my shoulders. Last summer I got my ears pierced; okay that's no big deal, lots of guys have pierced ears. And I had to do it eventually (have you tried to find decent clip-on earrings?), so that's excusable. Around the same time, though, my big multi-dial watch with the metal bracelet disappeared, replaced by a simple Timex ladies' watch on a leather band; it looks like something a nurse would wear. I also began wearing a silver puzzle ring, and a St. Christopher medal (well, everyone thinks it's a St. Christopher; if you look really closely, you can see that it's actually a souvenir of the Alamo).

I then managed to lose 40 pounds; not a problem in itself, but it does mean buying new clothes. Well, I simply could not bring myself to buy men's clothes. It felt like flushing money down the toilet. Solution: women's slacks & jeans & tops that look enough like men's styles that I can get away with it ...more or less. And shoes; I found a pair of black women's Dansneakers that I can live with, and a nice pair of flat loafers.

Now along comes the biggie: hormones. When I started in December, I expected that it would be a full year before I would change enough for it to be noticeable. Unfortunately (not really!), my body was unaware of my schedule, and now 4 months later I am a full A-cup, pushing B. My waist has narrowed, my hips and rear are developing, and my shape is noticeably more feminine. I've gotten away with it thus far by always wearing 2 tops, a tee of some sort under a bulky loose-fitting shirt. This is not going to be a reasonable solution when summer arrives in earnest, with 90 degree temperatures and 90 percent humidity!

Oh, I didn't mention my nails... acrylics, each extending a good 1/4 inch beyond the fingertip. I paint them each Friday when I get home from work, and remove the polish every Sunday night. These have definitely gotten a few odd looks from co-workers.

The one thing that's really not an issue is the laser hair removal; I guess no one really notices the lack of a 5 o'clock shadow on a guy, although they certainly notice its presence on a girl.

So here I am, going to my job where it's really important that I pass as a guy, and I've got breasts, no beard, and long nails, and I'm wearing women's clothing. Am I nuts? Am I trying to get 'caught'? Is some part of me trying to bring on a confrontation, to force me to come out now so I don't have to pretend any more?

I don't know. I jokingly tell my friends, "Well, I just figure that if I come out slowly enough, maybe no one will notice!" All I know for sure is that I'm incapable of going backwards; every tiny little step is symbolic of making progress in my transition. And when you feel that you're trapped in an untenable situation, every little victory is important.

It keeps you sane.

Laser, Part 2

Saturday was my second laser session, and the first to cover my full face.

There were a few interesting differences from the first session. This time, we were to do my full face and neck rather than just the goatee area. As I mentioned in my entry of March 27 (Blasting my face with laser beams), the area just below the nose had been the most sensitive; I soon learned that my neck, just to either side of the centerline, was worse. While doing the rest of my face was merely uncomfortable, these strips along the neck were nasty! This time, I was really glad that I had that frozen water balloon.

Once again, I was impressed with how fast the process is. All told, I was probably in the treatment room for about 20 minutes; a good part of that was breaks to let me catch my breath!

This time, Sandra applied an aloe gel when we were done, and we set my next appointment for a month later.

On the way home, I noticed the same sunburn feeling that I had had after the first session, with the neck being pretty sensitive to the touch. There was a noticable redness of the neck, and at this writing, some 15 hours later, it's still visible.

The big surprise to me was that a few hairs were already beginning to fall out by the time I got home; after my previous session, it had taken 3 or 4 days for the process to begin. Maybe it will clear sooner that the 2 weeks it took last time; wouldn't that be nice!

Although this session was much more intense than the last one, I don't want to overstate it; it still wasn't terrible, and far from being intolerable. And the thought of not having to shave again makes the discomfort fade quickly into the mists of memory!

Momentum

Yes, more on the subject of coming out.

I've discovered something interesting over the last few days: this whole process takes on a momentum of its own.

I had originally planned only on telling my sister and my old friends back in Texas. I didn't feel that I was quite ready to let my ex and my son in on what was happening to me; I felt I needed more time to perfect their letters, and more time to build up the courage I would need to press the 'send' button. And I certainly wasn't ready to fill in my friends here in the area!

But then I started getting back wonderful, supportive responses, and the strangest thing happened: I got bolder.

Before I knew it, I was hitting that send button a couple of times every night. To my amazement, I didn't get back a single nasty or reproachful comment. I was awash in good wishes from around the country; to be perfectly honest, it started to become addicted to it!

Thankfully, there was enough of the worrier left in me to bring things to a halt before I could simply show up at work one day as Annie, saying "This is me! You gotta problem with that?" I was getting these great responses because these are my friends and family, people who know me and could understand what I've gone through. Any illusions that I would get the same response from my employers (and the general public!) soon evaporated, leaving a view of reality in their place.

There's still so much to do, to prepare for; it's not time yet, and wishing doesn't make it so.

It sure was a nice feeling, though.

Thank you!

This is a pretty personal post. If some of you reading this feel a bit left out, I apologize; I'll be back to the usual subject matter soon.

As you might have guessed from reading it, my post of Friday, March 31 (Come out, come out, wherever you are...) was prompted by my decision to come out to my sister and a number of old & dear friends. The first letter was sent that evening, the rest late Monday night.

So far, all my fears have been unrealized. The reaction has been warm, loving and entirely supportive. I consider myself an extremely lucky human being.

In the midst of all this, I had to ask myself why. What is it about this particular group of people that's so special? Why are so many others abandoned and reviled by people they thought cared for them? A few thoughts come to mind.

We were a liberal (in a social sense) bunch growing up in liberal times. None of us were really a part of the in crowd; we were the weird kids, the band geeks, the speech & drama department dorks. I think almost every one of us felt an outcast at one time or another.

And I think that has stayed with us. We tend to root for the underdog, the oddball, the misfit, the eccentric. And when one of us comes along and reveals what a misfit she's truly been, the reaction is, "Wow! Well, I'm glad that you've finally done what you need to do to be happy. You've got my support."

Thanks, guys, thanks to each and every one of you. You've made me feel that I'm not such a misfit after all.

To op or not to op; that is the question

Among transsexuals who desire Sexual Reassignment Surgery, there seems to be a division into two camps: those for whom the quest for SRS is the single most important driving force in their lives, and those for whom other procedures such as Facial Feminization Surgery or breast augmentation have higher priority. (I'm not dealing at all here with non-ops, those that have no desire for SRS; that is another issue entirely.)

Of course, in a perfect world, in which finances played no part, everything would be done as soon as it could be arranged and scheduled. Most of us, however, live far from that perfect world. We have to work hard and scrimp and save and sacrifice for any procedure we need.

The thinking of the two groups seems to be along these lines: the first feel a strong revulsion towards their genitalia; it seems responsible for most of the pain and suffering they have gone through, and SRS is seen as the only thing that can turn all that around.

A statement seen in a Yahoo chat room some time back conveys the feeling; a girl who was afraid her surgery might be delayed said, "If I have to live another 3 months with a penis, I'll kill myself!"

The second is more concerned with living in the world as female; they see the incongruity of their genitalia as something that should be corrected, but other differences that are more visible have greater importance. Acceptance by society is their primary goal.

When asked if they would have SRS tomorrow if it were offered free of charge, this group is likely to answer, "Sure! But is there any chance of getting free FFS instead?"

Obviously, like all blanket statements about transsexualism, this is a gross simplification. Still, you have to wonder where the differences in these two groups come from. Do they reflect differences in brain chemistry? Different experiences in childhood? Or is it just a matter of "everybody's different"?

The one thing you learn living in this community for any length of time is that we are all individuals, each as unique as a snowflake.

What are your feelings? This is the way it seems to me, but I am certainly not the most experienced or authoritative person around. Please post your comments!