10/17/17
Today, at therapy, we talked a lot about how my conversation with Jill went and how proud I felt in that moment to experience so much acceptance and support. It truly makes me proud to have a friend like her, and to have had her react in such a positive way to me being trans. My therapist loved hearing about every detail of how that went down, and I loved telling it, because I got to relive a moment of euphoria...A moment of happiness from me deciding to tell someone important to me that I’m trans. We spoke a lot about relationships and how deeply I take words. Being a writer, it totally makes sense that words have been and still are, my most important love language. Talking with her about love languages was great, because I see more and more how much it makes sense as to why my relationships all turn out the way they do... And it’s because words are everything to me...but acts of service fall quickly behind that, and so if you’re telling me one thing and doing another, I’m not happy. I need consistency. We went back to the Jill conversation a lot because in the hour and half phone call we had, we touched upon a little bit of everything in the nicest way. I told her how nice it was to have someone that can relate and guide me through the process of possibly having an unaccepting family. I got emotional when I explained to her though, that I don’t think my family will disown me. It’s hard to explain, but there is so much love in my family and I know it and I feel it. There would never be anything that would make my family cut me off, ever. And I know this, but this doesn’t make it any less scary. Because there’s disappointment and there’s anger, and there’s confusion. There are so many things that they will FEEL and I’ll be able to tell. I will be able to see it all over their faces when they look at me. And although their responses will be natural, thinking about what they are thinking gives me anxiety. I feel like I’ve done a lot to make my parents proud. I’ve always set out to please them, but your 20′s are fucking hard. And your 20′s are filled with so much uncertainty...so much expectation of finding yourself after 18 years of being told what to do, who to respect, what is expected of you. It’s insane to think about how much goes into finding yourself and I’ve taken the steps to “transitioning” without even realizing what I’m doing. Cutting my hair, dressing more and more like a guy...I’ve gotten my feet wet, and now I’ve hit a wall, where I can no longer do any more transitioning to get to where I need to be until I meet with a doctor...until I take T...until I have Top surgery.. And that’s a big source of why I can’t attain the happiness I always search for. I try my best, but I’m not happy in the body I live in. That’s the problem. That’s the little thing that’s always been missing. I’m nervous to take away the daughter my mom wanted, but to be truthful, I was never there. I came out to her every time I screamed about wearing a dress. I came out to her every time I begged her to bring me to get sweatpants and sports shirts. I came out to her every time I played sports with the boys or played with my brothers tonka trucks. I came out to her when I told her I bought my first real pair of mens jeans when I was a freshman in college. I came out to her when I became the masculine women in all my relationships. I came out to her when I cut my hair. And I came out to her when I said “I guess” when she asked me if I felt like a girl when I was back home visiting my family... And now, I need to come out again. I need to come out with the words, I’m trans. And though I’ve watched her face soften every time I’ve taken small steps, I know this one is bigger and badder, and more permanent. This is the one that will officially admit the loss her daughter, and the transition to the third son she never got to accept growing up. And my dad loses his little girl. My dad can’t say he’s proud of his sweet girl. My dad and I lose a father-daughter connection that I’ve loved having.... I mean don’t we? Does me becoming a man all of a sudden change the way he gets to love me? I’m unsure. But I know this life I live is my own and my therapist told me the one thing parents want more than anything for their children is for them to be happy. But I told her parents also have fear....and my parents have always made it known that they want to protect me from the bad in the word. And I told her I’m busy protecting myself, that I don’t need the pressure of knowing they want to protect me from the words of other people and the actions of those who hate the LGBTQ community. I don’t need them to fear, I just want them to want me to be happy. I want them to be happy because I’m happy, and I want to leave out all the rest. Because that fear, can be mine, and mine only. And I don’t want it to be theirs. That disappointment I’m sure they will feel, I hope, is something that fades into happiness that I’m now my most authentic self. And slowly and surely I’m getting to a point where I will be ready to tell my family... Maybe soon, maybe not, but talking has really helped. Telling the people who matter as friends has really helped. Making this blog has helped. Buying queer books has helped. Wearing a chest binder has helped. Having people play with different pronouns has helped. Being called handsome has helped. And I’m so blessed to feel all this pride because it encourages me and solidifies the idea that I am in fact trans...and I’m just nervous as all hell to accept it. No, I’m nervous as hell, to take away from my parents what they’ve always wanted, and never got. But transitioning to a man takes away the facade of the daughter they had, makes me into the man I’m meant to be, but turns their daughter into this unknown stranger of a man.... A man they never got to raise properly. A man they never got to love. A man they never taught how to shave or pee standing up. A man they never got to meet, until now. A man they suddenly need to love as a son. A person, they will feel they failed, because I was raised as the wrong gender. But I’m thankful for that. I know so much about women, because I was one. I know how to respect a lady, I know how to love a women, in ways that men who were birthed as men will never understand. And that’s the beauty in the mind of transgender individuals. That’s the beauty in being raised without gender roles. And the beauty in somehow knowing, even as a young, innocent little girl, that I was never meant to do my hair up, or wear make-up, or play with barbies. It was far beyond a tomboy, I was a boy, and didn’t know how to articulate that into words. But my actions showed it. I love my therapist and it actually makes me really sad that we will be done together come December. But I am so god damn proud of the steps I’m making and the revelation I’m making about myself that now all seem to piece together and make sense. Today was a good day. This guy is pretty fucking proud of the man I’m becoming.
