I’ve not posted for some days now. In the real world, you readers have probably noticed. And I am sorry. But in my head I assume you didn’t notice. I assume nobody cares because that’s the kind of self-loathing you get in this package. In my head my bullshit was not missed. And that is where I went: in my head. It’s ugly in there. Ugh.
Some Thoughts I Wasted Time with in My Head
-I’m not trans enough
-T is not the issue
-I’m really mad but I don’t know about what
-I’m mad at my dad
I think something is working its way to the surface, some old insecurities or some lies about myself I’ve believed for a long time, because I have just felt mad for a few days, but I can’t really point to anything as its source. Which, of course, is maddening.
I have been considering that top surgery might not be the end point I have always thought of it as, but rather a beginning. Not just the beginning of a new part of my life, but rather the beginning of transitioning. And I think maybe that’s what I’m mad about: I think maybe I am a man, not just queer or something in-between as I have wanted to be satisfied with. I want very much to be happy with who I am after top surgery, and I am going to try really hard to do that. But I can already feel that this surgery, while right for me, is not a destination: it’s the necessary gas station pit stop on the way home.
I think I had it right when I was five, I was a boy, now I’m a man, a man that has to do all this extra work and put up with all this explaining and do all this self-reflection and pay for these surgeries and take these hormones just to get the right fucking pronoun.
I’m mad I feel like I’m kidding myself, like I can’t face the trans facts and am just prolonging the process. But I suppose this is the process, and this is my process, and it will take on whatever shape it damn well pleases and I should stop judging myself. But that also is a process, right? The learning-to-stop-judging-myself business is going to take some time.
I had lunch with my friend T the other day. T is my only real-life trans friend. This was the first time we had seen each other since my moving back to this area. Last time I saw him he was identifying as transmasculine and taking T. I was id-ing as butch.
We talked about his top surgery, and taking T. I told him about my plans, and he was very supportive. And I was so glad after lunch, walked home with a bounce in my step just because I had a real live trans friend. T is a kind man, and a good person to talk to about trans issues, but really just a good person to talk to about any issue: he is reasoned and well-tempered and has a sweet spirit. He was reassuring without influencing me one way or the other about what decisions are right for me.
But here I am, mad as hell I can’t rush right into the end point that I can’t yet see and don’t fully understand. Pissed I have to wait for something I have been suppressing for 30 years. Ha! I’m so mad I have to do this transitioning the right way, angry with myself for taking my time, and so I think part of my anger is anxiousness.
I want to get going and get to where I’m going. But I don’t know where that is yet. I’ve not seen home, not this home, ever in my life, and so I might as well enjoy the trip since I’ll probably not come this way again.
Be nice to yourselves,
Your Pal Eli