Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Remnants



I hate to admit it, but TH (the husband) is right.  About what you ask?  I am changing, slowly evolving into  a different person.  I didn't realize it until my cell rang the other day, and when asked who this was, without any thought at all, I responded, Bob*.  No hesitation whatsoever.  It's the first time that I didn't say Bobbie. The first time I didn't waver around on if I wanted to say Bob, or Bobbie.

Clicking the box for female is becoming something I have to stop and think about now.  My first instinct is to mark the male box.

A blogger friend Peter, was trying to help me find something to wear to the wedding, sent me some links of possible looks for me.  Sweet guy that he is.  The first two were of nice outfits featuring trousers and jackets, but in a relaxed style.  However.....the second two were skirt outfits.  Seeing those two pictures of very feminine outfits caused a physical reaction.  I wanted to vomit.  I got shaky, and had to close those two tabs on my browser.  I'm not real sure why the outfits had that effect on me.  But since then, I've on purpose looked at skirts and dresses, with the express desire to see if the same thing would happen.  And if I'm just looking at clothing, im fine.  However, if I ask myself, could you wear this?  I get that dark pit feeling in the bottom of my stomach.  The day of wearing skirts or dresses is over for me.

As I slowly unfurl, I wonder, where this is going to end?  Will I end up under the surgeons knife with a blood stream full of testosterone transforming myself into my inner self?  Or will I be happy living a twilight existence, only being seen by people who actually know me?

I missed the last Pflag meeting, due to still being ill.  I wrote and told Pete, the president of our local Pflag, why I wasn't able to attend, and mentioned going to Boston to the transgender conference.  And some how he took a leap, and decided that I meant I wanted to talk about it to the next meeting.  So..... yeah.  The one meeting I've managed to attend, only Pete knew that I was trans.  The ladies there assumed that I'm lesbian, and keep inviting me to their dances.  So, since I'm being forced out into the open, I'm going to tell the nice ladies who keep inviting me, about my status.  If they still want me to come and help out with the snacks or whatever, I'm cool with that.  But I feel that I really should be truthful to them about why I keep turning them down.

As I expand into my true self, peeling off each layer of not me, I quake with fear.  I fear that my growth will push me from TH's arms and love.

and so it goes........



*of course Bob, Bobbie isn't my real name, but it works as a non de plume

4 comments:

  1. It's a red letter day to 'out' yourself on the phone in this way.

    It's true. I remember well first admitting I was gay and being prepared to say so - to other gay people.

    And then, only to a slightly lesser extent when Pete and I got our Civil Partnership and suddenly I had to start using the term in some certain circumstances.

    It's still a bit of a thrill sometimes!


    So it'll definitely be trousers (or a kaftan) for your son's wedding - that's definite, is it?

    The only question then is quite how to be his mum while also being you and just at present it's a bit of a tough call.

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  2. I, too, remember the first time I said, OUT LOUD, to someone that I was gay.
    Big moment. Huge.
    And I think the most telling line of your post is when you wrote "As I slowly unfurl." This says to me that you've spent your life tied up, and you're ready to loosen the bindings.
    Tis a slow process, but, I think, well worth the journey.

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  3. I continue to follow your blog. I miss you! Not to sound creepy, but I bring you up in therapy quite frequently. When I say that, I mean that I'm using your experience as a way to remember and help my therapist better understand that there is no one correct way to "be trans." Despite what many trans people say/do and how they act, there really is no one way. I think that wether you medically/physically transition or not, you are an awesome person. Even if you do eventually decide to take hormones or have any surgery, you can be DAMN sure that it was a very well thought out process (unlike many youngsters who pay 150 bucks to get a T letter online). I admire you. That's it. :)

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