Life happens, each of our lives follows a different path. My life started in 1946 in the Dakotas. In those days for many people in largely rural areas was pretty local. Like the circumference of my everyday world was about thirty miles in diameter while I lived in the Hills except for a few trips out of that circle. On the prairie the diameter of my world stretched out to maybe 50 miles. Many of these trips involved travelling with middle school and high school sports teams. The towns I lived in ranged from 800 people to 3000 people.
Since I had been labelled a male at birth and having the body of a male, I was basically imprisoned in my male identity because in the 1950s and 1960s I never knew anyone who had escaped the gender identity assigned to them at birth. I never knew anybody who even challenged their assigned gender identity. I was aware of that Christine Jorgensen had escaped her male gender assignment to become a woman. But she was in a different world from me and I knew nothing of her story.
My own fear, ignorance, and my perceptions, my very survival would be threatened if I challenged the gender boundaries even a little bit. There were a lot of fears in these days including the fear of nuclear annihilation. There were racial and ethnic boundaries and boundaries around the church you belonged to. You were defined by your families social status and how long your family lived in the community and rather your parents were divorced or not married to each other or rather you had been conceived out of wed lock. In small town schools there were sections of the school for each grade level. Did you live on the wrong side of the tracks? Your dad's job in town created social barriers. There were towns you could drive around in at night and towns you couldn't. The Rez was totally off limits. Dating someone who lived on the Rez was totally a no no.
With all of this crossing the gender boundary between male and female, especially becoming a female during these days was totally too much for me. Especially when I had no private or secret place of my own. Also alcoholism created many emotional storms in my life.
It only seems to me that it is in the last three to five years with me now living in the urban southeast next to the ocean that no one seems to care if they see a 66 year old woman with many male characteristics. I basically have no social circle except my family and while I am out and about shopping and hanging out the wash, I am basically a homebody who basically is not invading anyone else's personal space including their church or their bar or the senior citizen center. I am basically invisible and not a threat. I even take my son to his elementary school without comment or challenge.
I feel is that if all anyone ever sees is me as a female, what they see is what they get, and they see me not even trying to be male. But it took me a long time to get to this point. Do I wish that I had come out of my cocoon earlier. Yes, I wish I had. Do I wish that I would have been able to transition at puberty, yes I do. Do, I wish that I had transitioned in the 1980s before I started balding, of course. Could I have changed anything, probably not.
I am not an island, and have never been one. For a long time I was never selfish enough to really take care of my emotional needs, while the rest of my family cared only for their selfish emotional needs. I had to learn the hard way that if you don't take care of yourself that you can take care of anyone else. I also had to learn that my emotional needs were as important as everyone else's. I also had to learn that most people only care about what you are doing for them now and could careless about what you have done for them in the past. I had to learn that there are lots of people who feel that you owe them, but that they never have to owe you. I also had to learn that most of this just doesn't matter. That all you can do, is what you can do now, and sooner or latter others will be forced to do for themselves. As you get older your body sets limits, which out of habit I still cross over, and then my body says, "I ain't going to take it any more." My muscles cramp up, and I get light headed and dizzy and I come to a stop and I am forced to listen to my body.
Old age is a frame of mind, and your mind can stay young and flexible, but a body stressed out through most of your life learns to say no. My mind is forced to accept it. Unfortunately the younger people in my life still think that I should be able to push through it. But I have done that one too many times.
Besides what is the point of being resentful about the missed years. Just surviving until I got to be 66 and still having a roof over my head and food on the table and family should be enough. Many of my family members died before I was even born. My dad only lived until he was 49 and my mother barely made it to 67. Those of my family that lived longer were only in my life for a couple of years so I never knew them.
When I go on Google Earth and search out my past, I find that most of it does not exist in the present any more. Only two of my childhood homes exist, all of the people are dispersed, the schools that I went to or taught in are gone or have made drastic changes as have all of those people who knew me. Most of my past exists only in my head.
I have to live with myself now as a woman and not worry about how other's see me, for in the future my now will only become a memory. So what is the point of regret or resentment. They only destroy me and keep me from living a happy life. Yes, I still do have my resentments and regrets and it is a constant battle for me to keep them from making me unhappy. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail. But after all, that is life.
