I found this posted on another blog…it is poignant and painful to me, for so much of it I share in common. While she is further out than I am, alas, her experience is, I fear, but a prefiguration of the horror that awaits me, should I ever find the courage and resolve to come out fully.
Honestly, for me, I still am not at all sure that it is the right thing to do, given the effect on others. I am mindful of not placing a stumbling block, of not indulging self. What is best and what is worst? I do not know. At any rate…read on:
“Musings of a Reluctant Birthday Girl
I have a confession to make.
Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.
I’m not really 26.
This blog is going to be self indulgent, but it is my birthday, so I can’t think of a better time to be so.
I had hoped to have reached my ideal weight by this birthday. Instead HRT and quitting smoking has conspired with my poor willpower to fatten me back up. I REALLY mean it this time, a BMI of 25 by this time next year!!!!
I had also hoped to have had a proper prescription from the GIC by now, but instead I am still self-medicating at least until my fourth appointment next week.
I had hoped to find full-time, well paid employment, but alas, holding down a job as a transitioning Transwoman with bipolar tendencies makes this goal elusive right now.
Maybe I should take ‘hope’ out of the equation and add that extra energy to the ‘do’.
What I want to reflect on is people… all people.
Coming out was probably the single most terrifying and upsetting thing I ever had to do, not because I feared rejection from my parents, but instead that I knew I would be hurting them. However I want to be honest here, not to shame or admonish, but just to be as raw and frank about things as I can be for the sake of others in my position who may stumble upon this blog.
My brother still doesn’t seem to have his head around this after having had nearly all year to do so, and my parents are reluctant for me to tell certain members of the family right now, or even ever. All the others who have been told in my family have been wonderful, but still so many are yet to find out.
This feels like limbo: A space between identities where the old me still exists like an echo that just won’t fade. My mother likened my transition to the death of her son, and his echo haunts me like a spectre that I just cannot shake off. Every time I have to come out to someone new, it feels like a reset, and I am trapped in a cycle of perpetual revelation and the same tiresome questions.
“How long have you felt this way?”
“Have you had the op?”
“Do you like girls or boys then?”
It feels like I have spent the past year just coming out over and over again. That initial fear of rejection and causing pain is now replaced by a muttered ‘Oh for fuck’s sake’ and fighting the temptation to tell them I have ‘it’ in a pickle jar at home, next to the telly.
It is almost becoming my shtick… my act… I know all the words off by heart and so it feels my mouth is a fountain of endless clichés that would bring tears to my writing mentors’ eyes.
I just want to climb to the top of a tall building, Kong style, and scream to the world…
“CAN I STOP BEING TRANS AND JUST BE A FUCKING WOMAN NOW?”
I don’t want to be trans. I don’t want to go around waving at people at going ‘look how different I am, isn’t it great?’ (And I have met many trans people who sadly make us all look bad by doing this). I just want to lose that chain, made from the bones of ‘him’, that is hanging round my neck and instead be who I hid away for so long.
I don’t care if people can’t deal with it. Either they do, or I have no room for them in my life, it’s simple. I can’t afford to. I cannot live my life at the pace that makes everyone else comfortable, I spent the first three decades of my life doing that, and now it is my turn to be selfish.
Love me or hate me, it’s your choice.
I just ask that if you want to understand what I am, look it up on the internet or in a library, talk to me, talk to others with similar experiences. Don’t bury me with the memory of who I was before. This has been the year of introductions, but next year I plan to live at my own pace.
That’s fair right?