This is another post thats a bit delayed so a lot of things are clumped up into it. I'll start by talking about my visit back to the clinic on november 15th. I chickened out of wearing my girl jeans but I wore my bracelet that I bought a few nights ago with my friend. When I arrived, I covered it by holding my sweatshirt over it, but when I got to the waiting room, I entered the magical haven again: With a word I am Claudia. Nobody there questions me. One of the nurses referred to me as a "he" by mistake, but remembered to use she all other times, so I wasn't too offended... after all I look like a he. In this place... people respect who I am... as simple as that may sound to some of you reading this... it is truly a dream like to be appreciated as me by total strangers, and friends alike. In real life only trusted friends know who I am, and only a few of those friends really understand it. I don't really take being a girl for granted yet, nor do I know if I ever will. Should I? Maybe the whole point of this nightmare of a life I live... is to know better than to ever take that for granted.
I talked to their therapist... I was honest in how my past experiences with therapists have been... unpleasant at best... but she was very sympathetic, and said she saw me as Sara. She won me over pretty easily... I hate therapists still but I like this woman in particular. Also she was a woman, and younger, maybe not my age, but younger than my first therapist... the reason this helps is because I think age set me apart from the first one I spoke to, and made it difficult to communicate... we were from different generations and different schools of thought. The second one was a man... I have no clue what he was thinking about...
I told her of my consistent worthless questioning. I say worthless because I know I'm past the point of questioning... and that I've known I'm a girl for a long long time now. But I analyze everything I do hysterically in terms of male and female... its a reflex that I force myself into, and it often drives me insane, it hurts so much. My fear is... that having told her this will delay my transition even more...
She told me to stop questioning and to go ahead and be Claudia, advice that is priceless. Friends and my sweetheart have told me the same. I know its pointless when I know the answer is that I am a girl, yet I do it because I doubt... not doubt in my need to transition, or in who I am, but doubts in self esteem. I want to be a girl, therefor I must not be one. I need the self esteem to believe in myself.
She told me to stop questioning and to go ahead and be Claudia, advice that is priceless. Friends and my sweetheart have told me the same. I know its pointless when I know the answer is that I am a girl, yet I do it because I doubt... not doubt in my need to transition, or in who I am, but doubts in self esteem. I want to be a girl, therefor I must not be one. I need the self esteem to believe in myself.
I drove home that night holding on to hope as tight as I can... but I can't seem to keep my grip on it for very long. I talked to mom for a bit and she started asking me questions. This time I was certain I wasn't going to let her shake my resolve in believing in myself as Claudia. She said things like she doesn't understand how I can be who I really am by having a fake body. I know she is far from comprehending my suffering but these thigns still hurt.
It was in this... one of many painful conversations that she said something that changed me a little... made me understand HER a little better. She said she didn't know how she is going to live the rest of her life. She started asking me questions about the risks of taking the hormones and crying before I could answer... I realized she needs me to be a boy about as much as I need to be a girl. I feel like I am so selfish... I am taking so much from her... but I can't keep living this way... it just hurts too much. I guess I'm a terrible daughter.
I dont remember when exactly it was I found out I had been outed to my whole family. My uncle I guess was going through some of his own problems, and he ended up blurting it out to everyone behind my back. If I knew what he was going through I wouldn't have told him anything at the time... but apparently my business is everyone elses's and not the other way around. I suspected them but... now I know that many of the comments I thought they HAD to be making in ignorance (IE: boys do this, and you're such a boy because of this) were meant to help close and tape shut the boy box. They have all been talking behind my back about how they do not see it in me and my mom was just thrilled to tell me this finally, that nobody can picture me as a girl.
I'm not looking forward to later today... thanksgiving. I have to pretend to be catholic, pretend to be straight, and pretend to be a boy. I have to pretend even though my existance as claudia is and has been common kmowledge. I have to pretend for their personal happiness at the cost of mine. And I have to pretend to enjoy it. life in general is a chore for me most of the time... It is dreadful to exist in the physical world when I'm being a boy, for everyone else. This chore in particular... however is one of the more tasking ones. I'm not allowed to confront them. So says the great mom, proprieter of my social life... such that it is.
I do love them believe it or not... and I'll forgive them someday for this... but I don't know I'll forget... They are still dear and precious to me, and I do not want to lose them, my Mom my Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncles and Aunts... but I not really look forward to this holiday season with them.
1 comment:
Lookism afflicts everyone, and it's especially hard on trans women. We see a transwoman who looks like Isis, or anyone who would never be clocked, and we say, whoa, that's great. We think differently of people who aren't as beautiful, aren't as feminine looking.
I'm guilty of that to some extent. It's hard to get rid of. Yet more and more I am able to see the person, not the appearance. It's been a good lesson for me.
As you know well, how we look has nothing to do with how we feel inside. Someone built like a defensive tackle might be transgendered, and no less so because of the size and shape of the body. But it's harder for our brains to get that.
I feel for you having home troubles. My situation is not the same, not least of all because I'm old enough to be your mom, but my family are currently the only people I know who can't accept who I am. Fortunately, they are not taunting me.
In group last night, I brought up how I had never known before how much strength I had in me. You've got me outdone on that score by a mile. You are one strong woman! I know that it sucks to have to be strong all the time, but it will serve you well in the long run. I hope things get better for you as time goes along, somehow. You deserve it.
Post a Comment