This varies just slightly from what I posted. I can never manage not to edit things when I reread them. It probably belongs in "Opinions & Editorials" but I feel weird posting there:
->-bleeped-<- (I wish there was a better word for it) is a truly tragic condition. In and of itself, the disconnect between the gender of your brain and the gender of your body causes trouble enough. Those of you who are female people understand the emotional pain caused by that part of your body that isn't quite how you want it. For us, our entire body is not what we would wish. Compared to the social ramifications, though, that dysphoria is small potatoes.
Before I began my transition, before I even realized I had this condition, I found little joy in life. I distracted myself with work and hobbies. I religiously avoided anything in myself, any interests or opinions, which seemed feminine. I had no idea why. It certainly wasn't because I was afraid of seeming unmanly. That was never a concern. The only joy I found was from my family, primarily my son and even more, my wife. They literally had the power to take me from ecstatic to miserable with a word. They still do. I'm not afraid to admit that I resented the power they had over me. Near the end of that time I was very close to deciding that nothing was worth living like that anymore. I very nearly decided living itself was too much trouble. Later in this essay I'll explain what pulled me back.
After I began transition things changed. I realized to my horror how numb I had been to my own emotions. Had I felt things as strongly then as I do now I very much doubt I would have survived. I began to take joy in everyday life. My life was richer, more colorful. I had regained hope. However, my family, which had been my greatest joy, became my greatest stressor. How would they react? Would they understand? Could they understand? Could they, at minimum, accept? For some of them, the jury is still out.
I've come to believe that indifference is the best outcome that transgender people can hope for. Not the best we deserve, the best possible outcome under any conditions would be to be noted as such with no more meaning than hair color. Other minorities have a culture to protect, we do not. We don't tend to assemble in groups. Seeing each other can bring up jealousy, criticism. We see someone else struggling to blend in and wonder if we're failing in the same way, or we see someone especially fortunate and think "why them? why not me?" It's petty, I know, but it's human. Anyway, this makes it very hard for us to come together for mutual support and protection. In some ways we're fragile and very, very defenseless. We, I, don't always feel deserving of respect, of love.
So, what has, so far, prevented me from giving in to despair, to, let's be honest, to suicide? There are three things I can point to. I know for a fact that there are people who love me, who would be very disappointed, perhaps even devastated, if I were to accept that "permanent solution to a temporary problem". Secondly, most of my life is infinitely better than it was before, even though I've traded one set of problems for another and my economic situation is precarious just now. The last one is tricky. I've come to be very suspect of my (few) memories from before I became an adult. Some of them I've come to believe are fictional, perhaps created by me to fill in a childhood not well remembered. The one that keeps me going, though, even if fictional, I cling to. I recall a conversation with my mother. She told me that she had been through a personal tragedy prior to my conception, that made my birth nearly impossible. She made it very clear to me that I was a miracle to her. Whether this is true, or just a fable she told to get me through a tough time, or even something my own brain fabricated I really cannot say. I simply choose to embrace the miracle and that is enough.
This has been a long missive, and I'll understand if none of you read to the end, but let me leave you with two things. Thank you, thank you, for those of you who find it in your heart to see my condition with at least indifference, not to my pain, but to my difference. Were it in my power I would bless you with all you wish most for yourself.
The other is more important. As you go through life embrace your own miracle. Each and every one of you is miraculous!
This was lovely Dee, and I can relate to many things you said :) As Tolkien once wrote
QuoteIt's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end... because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing... this shadow. Even darkness must pass.
:)