Ninety percent of my waking hours in the last three days have been spent staring into a fire, one which I built the first evening out here and have kept going. I'm at my uncle's farm in Texas' hill country (mostly to help him out, but selfishly to gain a little perspective and connect with myself). I'm miles from anything remotely close to a city. There's so little light pollution here that you can actually see the stars through the clouds (at least right now), and there are billions of them. Venus is visible before the sun sets (which is spectacular in and of itself - Tonight it was a brilliant shade of pinkish-orange). I spent a little bit of time here when I was younger, but I never really appreciated it, not like I do now, where you can hear the wind in the trees and game in the brush.
So really all there is to do here is make fire, drive the perimeter, and work. Yesterday and today my uncle and I cleared out trees from the road and chopped that into firewood. Real 'man' stuff. We drink all day and cook our meals over open flame. 'Inside' is the place where you sleep (And poke on the internet before bed - thank God they put up a cell tower. It used to be that only satellite/iridium phones would work out here. If there was any place on Earth where it would be possible to lose grasp on my newly-unrepressed femininity, it would be here.
I haven't experienced hardly any dysphoria out here (Part of me thinks that's because I haven't really seen my face in the last 72 hours), which has been good. I haven't had suicidal thoughts or soul-rending depression. I get up, rebuild the fire, and think, listening to the occasional bird and the wood singing in the fire. That's the only way to describe it - the quiet hiss caused by some science thing that I'm sure someone here can explain, but which doesn't matter in that moment. I've been more at peace here in the last three days than anywhere else in the last decade.
My uncle is about as salt-of-the-earth as they come; he's old, and simple, and about as stereotypical of a male as they come. He does have some interesting takes on religion. Other than the early hours of the day when he's still sleeping half a bottle of bourbon off, we spend almost all of our time talking. I've learned things about my family that I probably shouldn't, but it's like he told me - 'You and I, we've got a special bond, [name].' I was at first concerned about coming out to him, but honestly? I think that he's the first one in the family I want to know. If he can accept me, if he can understand this (which is a stretch, not that he's stupid or dumb, he's just set in his ways and thinking), the rest of my family should come around without much fuss.
What I've learned about myself is that I'm me. To label that, to define 'me' is silly and pointless. Whether that label is Confused Cis Man, Broken Iraq Veteran, or Transwoman, none of those labels actually matter. They're just categories that both I and society try to fit me into, because our stupid ape brains demand and thrive on organizing things. That's why, I think, that so much of society regards the transgender community with contempt and treats it like second-class citizenry; because we don't neatly fall into any of the categories we're supposed to. I know I'm probably preaching to the choir here, but it serves to set up my next breakthrough.
If none of that matters, then what does? Someone in the chat (I believe it was Noiro) posted a link to an article this morning that's sat with me all day, because it's my life philosophy applied to my current situation (That philosophy being, "If you're not happy, figure out why you're not happy, and fix it"). I'm not unhappy, not really. I live a better life than the vast majority of people on the planet. I'm privileged. Just by virtue of being on these forums, we're all privileged. I've seen a lot of back and forth about cis privilege and the T being the silent partner in GLBT and radical feminist hate, but being here, living about as simple as is possible, none of that matters - we're still more privileged than two thirds of the globe. And that's okay. Claire, in the chatroom, also mentioned something to me last night that's been on my mind, and it's an echo of what I talked about with my therapist last week. It's not necessarily about what I feel (though I wouldn't be at the point I am now without those feelings), it's about happiness, and what I can do to be happy (or more happy).
All of this has kind of been a trail of breadcrumbs leading to a bigger, more concise thought that I haven't really been able to put words to or accurately describe, but I'll do my best to lay it out as simply and easily as my words will allow.
I am me. I am not inherently male or female, but the summation of my ever-changing experiences that have molded and continue to shape my identity. I am not unhappy, but I could be happier, and the next step to improved happiness in my life is in a body that better reflects the direction my thoughts, emotions, and experiences have been guiding me towards through my entire life, whether conscious or deeply hidden away.
I want to thank all of you for support, especially everyone that I've come to know in the chat room. I've gained a lot of the perspective that I needed out here, but it wouldn't be without your help.
