I’m at odds with my own identity. So much so that I am beginning to hate myself even more for my weakness and inability to take hold of what I want in my life.
I have written in the past that my experience with dealing with this internal struggle for clarity is like a child who discovers the magic of a light switch. Illuminating the room in every way for all to be revealed, then stripping the certainty of safety before their eyes within the shroud of darkness as their eyes struggle to peer through. However, the child always has the ability to turn on the light switch whenever they want to see and flip it off in sheer amusement until it becomes a game to the potential annoyance of their caretaker.
Except my mind/psyche is the child and my heart/soul is the caretaker.
This is exactly what my experience with my gender identity has been like over the past year and even more so in 2013. In a way, it has always been like this, but only since I had begun exploring my whole self has it been so frustratingly obvious. There are times when I cannot stand being male – when the unsettling features of my body either hold no meaning to me or want away from me. And then, in my long-term decisiveness to survive, I just don’t care anymore whether I’m male or not. I’ll let my voice become lower-pitched. My body language is less demure. My close friends would accept me either way. I wouldn’t have to fight myself over this or need therapy. No one would ever be the wiser.
Nobody but me.
Me. Me. Me.
I can be so fucking selfish a lot of the time. Sometimes I even forget to say “thank you” because I’m thinking about everything else up to that point. The truth is, I’m most selfish when it comes to my life and self-worth. And yet, here I am…looking for any excuse I can to put off telling people about wanting to pursue becoming a “girl” and hopefully a proper woman because it feels right for ME. Though yesterday, I didn’t put off telling my mum about my self because I was afraid. I was, but it was simply the fact that she was running around all day until early evening and I wanted to hang out with my friends. Our schedules, as is often the case, just didn’t align…
To become who I wish to be is terribly worrisome…Though my trans- girl friend put me at ease about my career future, a new concern for me is the ability to have a family. I would like to have a child, but transitioning could pose complications with that. I think of the whole picture – transitioning, for me, will require going all the way or I’d never be satisfied.
Beyond the physical, I haven’t put enough emphasis on the mental and emotional transition. I’m afraid that I somehow am missing something in that realm of being comfortable with myself that is creating blockades in my path. How does one both begin a new life on so many levels while throwing away the identity they’ve crafted out of necessity? It’s I’m not even as old as so many others whose stories I’ve read who have gone through MtF transitioning. And from what I’ve read, many of these people were just as scared and uncertain as I am, and yet they had the courage to go forward because they “knew it was right for them” despite many other dire complications that are much more painful and debilitating than my own.
Compared to what others have had to go through, I’m making a mountain out of a molehill…I’m dwelling on the few negatives that exists and making them out to be giants in comparison to what happiness may come by letting go of this struggle just because it’s what I’ve done for as long as making an impression mattered.
Will I be happy with myself just giving up the idea entirely…? Will I be satisfied wearing prosthetics and being seen as merely some crossdresser putting on an act…? Will I be glad to be “a man” to my wife and all the things that may come with being a husband and father just to play out the gender role defined by my genitals? Could I ever be enough of a “woman” for anyone anyway…?
I could ask questions like these all day.
If my considerably short time in this life has taught me anything, it’s that I’m not satisfied or happy with (1) my body; (2) inability to express my self the way I truly desire; (3) the expectation to play by society’s rules of masculinity, even though I’ve become quite good at it; (4) with being left out of the joy of being one of “the girls”; (5) not being able to be properly intimate and express my love…
The doubts go on. The list of positives lengthens. The light switch keeps flipping. One or the other.
This is what society’s constricting gender binary has done to souls like me who just want to live. May there please be some meaning to all of this…