mundanity

Suddenly it seems like not such a big deal, everything.  I’m a trans woman, life goes on.  Some people get it, some don’t.  It really doesn’t matter in the long-run.  There are other things in life than one’s gender and the implications thereof, opinions thereof, actions and words, on and on and on.

When I open my eyes, I see that my situation is routine, uncommon but routine.  And it’s my business to live my life and get on with it.

 

I never knew that cold mundanity could be so breathtaking.  It’s like a miracle or something.

 

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reflections pt. 1

As I stand on a train platform, my feet are cold and firmly rooted in the ground.  I see the world differently and it seems that I don’t actually know where I’m going.

 

Its been almost a year now since I’ve affirmed to myself, my identity as a woman.  It’s not as scary as I imagined.  It’s not as fulfilling as I imagined.  It’s not as final as I imagined.  Basically, my concept of self is all that has changed.  Friends and acquaintances, coworkers see me the same way.  Changes in my appearance and how I carry myself are seen as the fashions of a gay man, if they are noticed at all.

Paradoxically I’m a lot more sincere, but when I say things like, “thanks!” or, “I think you’re really smart!” it comes across as sarcasm.  Literally everything I say is flat.

The most surprising thing is that it doesn’t really matter how I see myself, people see me the way they want, in the way that makes sense to them.

 

So I’m trying to look at this with a cold, objective eye.  Thankfully, when I look at myself in the mirror, it is not with cold eyes.  I like myself now.  I couldn’t say that before.

I hated myself for failing, for miscommunicating, for being painfully awkward.  For everything, from forgetting someone’s name to losing a friend.  I could never forgive myself for these things.  But tomorrow is another day.  And I hope that these memories, my regrets, won’t define me anymore.

 

A detail that is lost in all of this is my parents.  Its always been messy with them, as they’ve been separated for as long as I can remember.

My Mom knows that I’m her daughter and my Dad thinks that I’m his son.  This is difficult, and I turn over and over in my mind how I can fix it.  It’s a strange schism to live with, which I couldn’t believe for awhile.  My Father and I had drifted apart over the past year and I could have sworn that my Mom told him, but she didn’t.  It’s Thanksgiving soon and I’m worried about what to do.  I’m afraid to talk to my father about this.  Maybe we’ll never speak about it.

My Mother was in disbelief when I told her that I’m her daughter.  She still holds out hope that it’s a passing phase, that I’ll work it out, that it’ll go away, which hurts.  When I first told her, she said I was incorrect.  Then once she believed it, she felt upset for me, that I would be subject to such a fate.

 

I honestly don’t know what to make of this.  And I try not to think of it that way.

 

hope and predictability

I am beginning to feel better about being trans.  I don’t feel the burden to tell everyone that I talk to, which was awkward.  I’m not as worried about my future and how things are going to become.  I feel more in control of the process, if it is a process.

 

I met up with my friends the other day, people I haven’t seen in a couple of months.  I was avoiding them during the worst of my gender existential crisis because I didn’t want to seem stressed-out for no apparent reason.  I wasn’t prepared to face the old boys club, the circle of guy friends I’ve known for years.

Anyway, I finally met them for a movie but I was nervous.  I really wanted to tell them what’s been going on, why we haven’t seen each other.  I wanted to tell them that I’m transgender.  I’d been thinking about how I was going to say this for days.  There’s no elegant way to say what I wanted to say, nothing that would avoid a litany of awkward questions.

 

We were hanging out after the movie and there was no way I could tell them.  It wasn’t worth it.  I went home and breathed a huge sigh of relief.  I was surprised, floored, that an enormous burden was lifted from my mind and body.  I didn’t have to tell everyone.  It’s not always relevant.  I am what I am.  Some people may see it and others may not, I don’t need to turn it into a discussion or a debate.  It was one of those duh moments.

 

All of this is happening very quickly.  I practically woke up one day and realized I’m trans.  And life is profoundly less predictable because I realize that anything can happen.  But it also means that the clouds can clear just as quickly and chaotically as they appeared.  There is hope in unpredictability.  Even good things can happen.

 

june 14th, 2013 (on a friday)

From my journal:

“What I feel now is not true hopelessness, it is not full absence of hope.  It is shock and panic and fear as I contemplate how my newly realized identity changes things for me, changes my future.  But it is a positive change in the long run.  I am more stable.  And I am arguably more realistic, not living in a fantasy of anything that I could imagine to make the world make sense in my terrible ignorance of my true self.  I even seem to have the ability to write now when I could not write before.  My old journals are an exploded debris field of confusion and pain, longing and despair.  Now I know.”