For whatever reason, rings have always had a very strong symbolic power to me. They are more than jewelery, in fact, I don't really consider them accessories like bracelets, or earrings or necklaces, rings are different. You'll never see my hands covered in rings, my fingers are naked, except for the symbol that is currently part of me.
They are statements, indicators, announcements, memories, and they can even be chains, they mean something more than just making yourself a little more bling....
I've worn many rings in my life, and I've also given a couple to people I've loved. As they mean so much to me, the act of me giving one to someone bears the same weight as me receiving one. This doesn't always match with how they feel about the symbol, but that's OK, we can't all be the same after all.
I remember when my family moved back to Canada in '87, my parents had put a ton of furniture into storage when we left for Europe, which was now the family furniture in our big blue house. I was in the basement one day poking through stuff, opening unfamiliar drawers, examining the papers, pictures, albums, memories, slices of my parents lives before I came around. I've always been interested in peoples stories, how they came to be, their influences.
I remember opening a drawer in a wooden desk, enjoying some pictures of my hippy parents when they were just married in their early 20's, and my fingers stumble upon a chunk of rust. At first I thought it may be some old rusty bolt, yet I didn't discard it, something about it felt different. I brought it up to my mother who knew what it was immediately, it's your fathers old ring she tells me, hold on, I know how to clean it.
Within moments she presents me with a gleaming silver band, almost a centimeter wide, edged rounded down, and I immediately put it on the middle finger of my left hand. Aside from my life as a child in Europe, I've never had a strong or close relationship with my father, even though I've always wanted one. Wearing his old ring gave me a sense of being connected to him in a special way.
That ring stayed on my finger for a few years, we had it resized for me as I continued to grow, then at one point it simply cracked along the seam that was created while resizing it. I don't remember why, but I decided to retire it instead of trying to fix it, it sat in a drawer for years after that.
I showed the remnants of the ring to a girlfriend I had after having moved to Montreal. She saw how special it had been to me through my words and my eyes, and she gifted me with a new ring one day, almost exactly like the old one, and I loved her for it, and wore it proudly, it was a link from my past to my present. It reminded me of the connection I had been trying to create with my father via the original ring, and at the same time solidified my connection to her.
I honestly don't know what happened to that ring, in fact, I don't even remember which of my first two long term girlfriends got me it.... mists of time and all that
I recall buying myself a ring at the Highland Games festival while dating the second one, it had intriguing Celtic markings upon it. I didn't wear it long, it had no meaning to me, it was just pretty, an accessory, something to fill that naked finger that had gotten so used to having something upon it. I lost it, and didn't care.
On July 31st 2010, Becca placed my wedding ring on my finger as I placed her ring on her hand. This one meant the world to me. Again, it was fashioned similarly to my fathers ring, simple, wide, and silver. I would fiddle with this ring constantly, spinning it around my finger, staring at it, in all honesty, I think I loved my ring more than she loved hers. I would flash it to everyone, especially during our honeymoon, with my big face splitting grin, as if to say "see!, she chose me!". I loved being married, even though our marriage was doomed from the beginning, I absolutely loved it and I made sure everyone knew it.
I'm looking forward to being married again one day if the fates gift me with that honor....
now, I guess we get to the ring I actually wanted to talk about, the one that I still wear, and has only been removed three times (and each time I ended up panicking, "wheres the fucking ring!, GAH!").
Becca and I thought we could make it, right up to the end, right up to March 27th of last year, H-day. Six weeks before that fateful day, right at, or around, Valentines day, while we're both standing in his old kitchen, she looked at me with sad, but hopeful eyes. She asks me to extend my left hand to her, and she takes my ring finger gently, my wedding band already there, and she slips a beautiful, thin, feminine ring onto my finger and lets it rest next to his ring. She looks at me and tells me that this is Dawn's ring, to symbolize that she accepts the real me, and that she wants to be married to her as much as she wanted to be married to him.
I have no idea what she went through in order to make that decision, to go out and buy that ring, to get it sized for my finger, and I'll most likely never know. What I do know is that it wasn't easy for her, even though she loved me, she was losing me, the man that she fell in love with, but she was trying, oh, so hard, she was trying, right up until the last day. I'll always love her for trying so hard, she will always have a part of my heart and my soul
After we separated, I continued to wear my wedding rings, the small feminine one next to the fat masculine one. It was only when things went bad between us, a month after separation, that I removed his ring. I still have it of course, and I'll always have it, tucked away in a jewelery box.
This was the first time I removed Dawn's wedding ring.
Although I'm not religious in any way, I've learned that in certain religions, if a spouse dies, the surviving spouse will transfer their wedding ring from one hand to the other, on the same finger. I've always found this to be a very beautiful tradition, a powerful symbol.
I placed my ring on the ring finger of my right hand, where it has remained for the past 19 months.
I look at it often, and think about my past life, feeling guilt over what Becca had to go through being with me, and how it all ended. It still brings me a sense of love, a reminder of love, thinking of her, and her struggles to continue our life together. I touch it and remember, and sometimes I smile, and other times, like right now, I do my best to hold back the tears.
I know that one day I'll take this ring off and place it aside, in the box, next to his. I don't know what I need to do, or what I need to go through, or what I need to let go of, to make that happen. I don't even know if I want whatever needs to happen to actually happen, I don't think I'm ready yet, still so much more work to do. It won't be because, if I'm very very lucky, someone else gives me a ring, if that were to happen, I may continue wearing both rings for a while, I simply don't know. What I do know, is that all things considered, that time is not too far in the future anymore, it's coming closer, I feel a shift coming, and that's terrifying but it's also going to be wonderful.
A part of me wants to hold on, the rest, knows, that it will soon be time to let go
Tuesday, 16 September 2014
Sunday, 7 September 2014
My house..... his house
So I took Mara up to the old house yesterday, I wanted to check it out, haven't been there in almost 2 months which in all honesty, isn't that responsible of me. I didn't expect the feelings that I experienced
I do own it, technically, but in a way, it's not my house, it's never been my house..... it was his.... it was the place he died
Even though my wonderful neighbor has been taking care of the lawn, the gardens have gotten overgrown, what started off as little sprouts have become saplings, the place doesn't look that great from the outside.
Junk mail had piled up, and Becca still hasn't changed her address on a number of important documents. I got angry at her, frustrated, if she still hasn't been able to do this, how must she still be feeling. It's been eighteen months now, I was praying that she would have moved on, maybe she hasn't after all....
I let us in, and the inside looked the same..... but empty..... hollow.... a thing of the past
The nickel tour as she called it
We went downstairs, I could see Becca and him sitting there on the couch, watching TV, him rubbing her feet, the shelving that caused such drama and made me (him?) lose a friend....
Poked around, realized how much I still have left to do up there
We climbed the stairs to the top floor, and it started to hit me..... I'm not sure what started to hit me, emotions, sadness, guilt, regret for letting things go so far with Becca, shame for needing her so much to become who I always was supposed to be
Mara sees it in my eyes, she holds me tight, kisses me, doesn't say anything, lets me talk as I try to, just holds me
We enter the guest room, then the room that I had wanted to give to my first child. I couldn't look her in the eyes, I held back my tears, but she felt them regardless. We stood there together, me in her arms, she fed me her strength and her love. I needed it, she let me onto her rock for the time I required. We kiss, as if trying to bring new life, new energy, into this place
It felt haunted to me, just realize that now as I type this
We don't stay long, and on the way out, we deliver the mail to my old cousin's house across the street... I'm thankful they don't appear to be home... going there fills me with anxiety at the possibilities of what could occur
We make plans to take a day on a weekend soon to come up and spruce the place up. Her eyes, face, soul, smile at me. It's going to be difficult, so difficult to come back, to take care of the place like I should have already done.
I've been avoiding it, avoiding the place, avoiding my responsibilities there, just hoping someone will take the problem from my hands. Perhaps it hasn't sold yet because I still have work to do there, not just material things, but I need to make peace, I need to let go instead of shutting my mind to it. The universe has ways of fucking with me, giving me challenges I don't want to face, I wonder if this is one of them
I'll hop from my rock to hers for this and let her help me, making my own rock stronger in the process
I thank her for helping me change the energy of this place.... locations.... things.... they hold energies, and past sentiments, past pain and loss, but they can also hold love and hope and beauty
We go out for sushi at my favorite little place, and we talk, and we laugh, and we grow.... and after a while.... being up there, in his little town, the place where he wanted to finalize his story, the place where he died.... it doesn't feel that bad anymore
Thank you Mara
And to him..... rest well..... your work is done..... I'll take over from here
tears run down my face
I do own it, technically, but in a way, it's not my house, it's never been my house..... it was his.... it was the place he died
Even though my wonderful neighbor has been taking care of the lawn, the gardens have gotten overgrown, what started off as little sprouts have become saplings, the place doesn't look that great from the outside.
Junk mail had piled up, and Becca still hasn't changed her address on a number of important documents. I got angry at her, frustrated, if she still hasn't been able to do this, how must she still be feeling. It's been eighteen months now, I was praying that she would have moved on, maybe she hasn't after all....
I let us in, and the inside looked the same..... but empty..... hollow.... a thing of the past
The nickel tour as she called it
We went downstairs, I could see Becca and him sitting there on the couch, watching TV, him rubbing her feet, the shelving that caused such drama and made me (him?) lose a friend....
Poked around, realized how much I still have left to do up there
We climbed the stairs to the top floor, and it started to hit me..... I'm not sure what started to hit me, emotions, sadness, guilt, regret for letting things go so far with Becca, shame for needing her so much to become who I always was supposed to be
Mara sees it in my eyes, she holds me tight, kisses me, doesn't say anything, lets me talk as I try to, just holds me
We enter the guest room, then the room that I had wanted to give to my first child. I couldn't look her in the eyes, I held back my tears, but she felt them regardless. We stood there together, me in her arms, she fed me her strength and her love. I needed it, she let me onto her rock for the time I required. We kiss, as if trying to bring new life, new energy, into this place
It felt haunted to me, just realize that now as I type this
We don't stay long, and on the way out, we deliver the mail to my old cousin's house across the street... I'm thankful they don't appear to be home... going there fills me with anxiety at the possibilities of what could occur
We make plans to take a day on a weekend soon to come up and spruce the place up. Her eyes, face, soul, smile at me. It's going to be difficult, so difficult to come back, to take care of the place like I should have already done.
I've been avoiding it, avoiding the place, avoiding my responsibilities there, just hoping someone will take the problem from my hands. Perhaps it hasn't sold yet because I still have work to do there, not just material things, but I need to make peace, I need to let go instead of shutting my mind to it. The universe has ways of fucking with me, giving me challenges I don't want to face, I wonder if this is one of them
I'll hop from my rock to hers for this and let her help me, making my own rock stronger in the process
I thank her for helping me change the energy of this place.... locations.... things.... they hold energies, and past sentiments, past pain and loss, but they can also hold love and hope and beauty
We go out for sushi at my favorite little place, and we talk, and we laugh, and we grow.... and after a while.... being up there, in his little town, the place where he wanted to finalize his story, the place where he died.... it doesn't feel that bad anymore
Thank you Mara
And to him..... rest well..... your work is done..... I'll take over from here
tears run down my face
Wednesday, 3 September 2014
Cyclical Meanderings..... part 6..... poly
I'm seeing someone new, the one that was alluded to in my last post, from the pantsless party
It's been a whirlwind so far, the connection that we feel, the ideas and thoughts that we share, incredible, completely and utterly incredible. I sincerely have never felt this before. Yes I've been in love, deeply in love, but not after two weeks.... my pattern has always been that lust grows fast, but love takes it's time. In this, we are completely aware that we are in lust, but it is more than that, and she feels it too. It's love, and it's been declared, and it makes us happy.
The kicker?, she's polyamorous, and married to a person that she loves deeply, but that doesn't mean that she can't love another deeply as well.
So, does this mean I'm now poly?, what does poly mean?.... I have a feeling that poly can mean different things to all of us, just like open relationships or even monogamous relationships. Each have their own way, their own set of rules, their own reality.
I don't really do casual anything. If I do something, anything, I usually dive headfirst into it. I don't do casual friendships, I don't really see the point, I love my friends, each in their own way, for various reasons, and I feel that they satisfy different needs, different aspects of me, and bring different things to my life. I don't sleep with (the vast majority of) them, but I do love them. I would fight for them, support them, make sacrifices for them, stand by them, open myself up to them and they to me, they are truly special to me. Losing a good friend at times can sting just as much as losing a partner.
Isn't that already kind of poly?, does it take sexuality in order to make it poly?, if so, then maybe I already am poly, I do have a friend that I love, and we have always had a sexual connection which recently became real. Isn't that the classic definition of poly?
Is there a classic definition of poly?
My girl is going on a date with a partner of hers. They will talk, and eat, and enjoy each others company, and most likely end up in bed. That's what I just did with my good friend, but I don't think of it as "a date", I think of it as a good friend who I enjoy time with, will eat and drink with, and maybe we'll end up in bed together. The outcome appears to be the same, the only difference I can find is the label that we put on it. She's going on a date, I'm not, but we do the same stuff....
which of course leads to.... what is a date?.... what makes a date different than enjoying sexuality with a loving friend?
I think, for me, dating has the component of wanting to examine if there is a potential future with said person, testing the waters, looking for compatibility in that way. With my friend that I love and share sexuality with, I hope she is in my future as an important part of my life, but not like that.... but what does that even mean?.... lets see.... where is the line?.... what is the difference?....
I would hate to lose her from my life, but I'll never feel a romantic love for her.... perhaps dating for me is a test to see if romantic love can be there at all. Love is different with everyone, and for everyone, and while I love many, that specific type of romantic love is reserved for .... up to this point .... just one
and I'm a romantic at heart if you haven't all figured that out yet
is that the difference between poly and open?, the romantic love?.... do others have the same definition of romantic love?
what is the definition of romantic love?.... oooh.... that's a good one
delving deeper
woo
It's been a whirlwind so far, the connection that we feel, the ideas and thoughts that we share, incredible, completely and utterly incredible. I sincerely have never felt this before. Yes I've been in love, deeply in love, but not after two weeks.... my pattern has always been that lust grows fast, but love takes it's time. In this, we are completely aware that we are in lust, but it is more than that, and she feels it too. It's love, and it's been declared, and it makes us happy.
The kicker?, she's polyamorous, and married to a person that she loves deeply, but that doesn't mean that she can't love another deeply as well.
So, does this mean I'm now poly?, what does poly mean?.... I have a feeling that poly can mean different things to all of us, just like open relationships or even monogamous relationships. Each have their own way, their own set of rules, their own reality.
I don't really do casual anything. If I do something, anything, I usually dive headfirst into it. I don't do casual friendships, I don't really see the point, I love my friends, each in their own way, for various reasons, and I feel that they satisfy different needs, different aspects of me, and bring different things to my life. I don't sleep with (the vast majority of) them, but I do love them. I would fight for them, support them, make sacrifices for them, stand by them, open myself up to them and they to me, they are truly special to me. Losing a good friend at times can sting just as much as losing a partner.
Isn't that already kind of poly?, does it take sexuality in order to make it poly?, if so, then maybe I already am poly, I do have a friend that I love, and we have always had a sexual connection which recently became real. Isn't that the classic definition of poly?
Is there a classic definition of poly?
My girl is going on a date with a partner of hers. They will talk, and eat, and enjoy each others company, and most likely end up in bed. That's what I just did with my good friend, but I don't think of it as "a date", I think of it as a good friend who I enjoy time with, will eat and drink with, and maybe we'll end up in bed together. The outcome appears to be the same, the only difference I can find is the label that we put on it. She's going on a date, I'm not, but we do the same stuff....
which of course leads to.... what is a date?.... what makes a date different than enjoying sexuality with a loving friend?
I think, for me, dating has the component of wanting to examine if there is a potential future with said person, testing the waters, looking for compatibility in that way. With my friend that I love and share sexuality with, I hope she is in my future as an important part of my life, but not like that.... but what does that even mean?.... lets see.... where is the line?.... what is the difference?....
I would hate to lose her from my life, but I'll never feel a romantic love for her.... perhaps dating for me is a test to see if romantic love can be there at all. Love is different with everyone, and for everyone, and while I love many, that specific type of romantic love is reserved for .... up to this point .... just one
and I'm a romantic at heart if you haven't all figured that out yet
is that the difference between poly and open?, the romantic love?.... do others have the same definition of romantic love?
what is the definition of romantic love?.... oooh.... that's a good one
delving deeper
woo
Tuesday, 26 August 2014
woo woo
Within constant chaos, one must evolve constantly
Anything else is irrational
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I think that may be why, during my previous life, when I fell into the static, I would eventually go insane, need to break out, get free.... that usually ended up in me doing stupid and unhealthy shit
but the chaos can be frightening, and there is such security within the static. I guess a lot of people are comfortable within the static, they must be, so many of them live there, but personally, I don't buy it
I think they all have a need to break free, to explore and experience.... but the need doesn't overpower the fear for whatever reason.... yet they love living their lives vicariously through people like me..... just as I did when I was static, hearing stories instead of telling them, realizing that all the stories I was telling were a decade or two old, I wasn't creating any new pages in my book, no new chapters other than the Disney ones.... bought a house, got married, big TV, new car, not happy, ignoring my needs, nothing else.... ugh
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I was called a "woo woo" last night, meaning one of those people that looks for deeper meaning in everything, a dreamer, a romantic. The term makes me laugh, and she appreciates it in me for which I am thankful, as this new journey is just beginning
another step into evolution, into chaos
yet, strangely enough, without fear
just a twinkle in my eye
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It seems I'm not as straight as I thought I was.... go figure.... I'm sure this doesn't surprise anyone else but me...
A party in which you don't wear pants, a crazy and weird experience. A gay guy dances with me, lifts me in his arms, kisses me, and declares that it was the first time in a decade he had done this. And it was wonderful. An interesting connection is made
I meet a woman, a soul, we find ourselves acting like teenagers on the dance floor, and outside of the club, and in my room in the wee hours of the morning.
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Imagine sharing a powerful, sensual, beautiful connection with someone, knowing that they share the same type of connections with others, and that you as well have the liberty to do so yourself. Not just mechanical sex, or physical need, but emotion, energy, feelings....
The thought had always terrified me, yet now, no fear, just living, just being, and enjoying the journey, regardless of where it takes me, or her.... trying not to use the term 'us'.... too soon, but....
Isn't that what it's supposed to be about?, the journey?
My mother asked me about a possible future in this type of world, where is the security?, where is the guarantee?, if you find yourself alone at 70 or further, on your death bed, will you have that person there with you?
I have so much love in my life, I know that I won't be alone when the time comes, and love is truly what matters, not a specific pre-approved version of love, just love
There is so much time between now and then, a lifetime in fact, and I'd rather fill that life, that storybook, with as many pages and chapters and footnotes and appendices and inserts and references as possible as opposed to one long page ..... a static page
sharing love, what a novel concept
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yeah.... I'm a woo woo.... that's for damn sure.... what can I say.... it fits
Monday, 18 August 2014
What is my flavour of trans?
I read a post today on Facebook that rubbed me the wrong way, as you'll see later on in this piece, I think I may have interpreted it incorrectly as it triggered the "if you don't see trans like XYZ, then you're doing trans wrong". This is an issue in our "community".... I use quotes there because we barely have a community as each persons interpretation of what is trans for them is always different than the next.... and we end up infighting instead of getting anything constructive done half the time. One of the reasons I don't consider myself part of any communities.....
I'm not going to post her words verbatim out of respect for one's anonymity, but you'll get an idea of what the first post was from my words below
Responding to the thread that generated from the post took me a while, and made me think a lot about stuff that I haven't considered in a while, and due to this, I want to share it here. I'll read back upon this in the future, and I'm sure my views will have shifted, and I think this is a nice snapshot for this moment in time.
My words verbatim. The words in italics have been added for this posting to elaborate on the backstory.
--//--
First off, I think the way I read the original post was "if you don't hate your birth body, you aren't doing trans right", which in retrospect may have been a mistake so I apologize for that. We have a TON of "you aren't the right type of trans" in our communities, and it sickens me, even though I am guilty of thinking the same thoughts occasionally (i.e , I still have problems with a furry guy wearing a dress, and I don't want to have those problems, but in all honesty, I do.... trying to be fully honest here ).
I remember in my agonizing over whether I should transition or not (I finally did it at 35, only last year), when I spent a week or two alone, my dysphoria was almost easy to handle. Yes I wanted to be female, and no I can't explain why, but the fact that I was male in a male body wasn't the end of the world. It was when I was around people that I would get triggered all of the time, and those are definitely social cues affecting me, after all, what else could they be?.
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I posed the question of, if you lived on a desert island, never having contact with another human being, would you still feel dysphoric....would you still be trans?
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I think if I lived on that hypothetical desert island, I wouldn't have had these problems. And that concept held me back for a long time.... i.e..... maybe I'm not really trans.... maybe I'm just screwed up / confused / whatever.
But since I don't live secluded on a desert island, I still had to deal with the world, and the world saw me as male, and treated me as such. I knew I was going to end up killing myself over it, but I never felt hate or discomfort about my body, it was a hatred that was from me to the world in not seeing me the way I wanted to be seen, in the way that I saw myself, after all, not all women have curves, or even feminine figures, many have receeding hairlines, or masculine muscles, yet they are still seen as women. Why couldn't I be seen that way in my former body?... because that's not how our world works
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she stated that in her belief system, gender has no place in human society and that it has been used as a tool to repress women
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Personally, I don't believe that gender has no place in the human world. Gender stereotypes are bullshit, that's for sure, and a feminine spirit can exist within a male body just as much as a masculine spirit can exist in a female body, without being trans in any way. Restricting each person's expression is what bothers me in our society, seeing masculine traits as positive and feminine traits as negative, that infuriates me and there is NO reason for that to be so prevalent, but I do believe that there is essentially a duality, and yes, people can traverse that duality, people can be in the middle of that duality, it's not fixed, it's not tied to genitalia, but to me, it is a basic part of nature. It's everywhere in nature, and we are all part of nature, so what would make humans different than any other living creature on this planet?. I truly feel, and always felt, that I had a feminine / female / woman's soul within me, and maybe if I had been raised in a culture which celebrated this, maybe then I wouldn't have had to physically transition..... I don't know, impossible to say. But within the culture and reality that we inhabit, I had no choice to match my physical to what I feel is my spirit.
The other wrench in the equation for me is simply that without T in my system, and having E in it's place, I simply feel better. I feel more alive, I don't feel held back by the rage that used to fill me. Even while completely alone, where social gender doesn't exist (back to the desert island concept, and kind of screws the desert island concept), I feel at peace, I feel more like I think I should feel, I feel like I fit in my body.... perhaps this is the "identifying with your body" that you were referring to and that I may have misunderstood?. Science tells us that hormones shouldn't have psychological impact on our actual brain matter, so when I'm not in a social environment, I'm not being soothed by being seen as female, why does it make such an enormous difference in me?. Who knows, but all trans folk that I know have felt the same way, regardless of the direction they're travelling in.
Even though it seems I pass a lot of the time (that still surprises the fuck out of me to be honest), I still have certain male physical features, and yes, I still have my penis, but none of this bothers me, it doesn't make me feel less of a woman. I don't have a *female* body, I have a *feminine* body (and I consider my genitalia feminine as well even though it technically is the opposite of that), and that feels wonderful to me, with or without the social interaction, which again screws up the desert island hypothesis. So maybe I was a bit more body dysphoric than I had thought when sitting down to write this post, who knows, I'm only a year old and figuring myself out still , I think I could have survived having a male body and still lead a decent life, I know I wouldn't have been able to continue being seen as male, I was ready to check out because of that
does any of this make sense?
I'm not going to post her words verbatim out of respect for one's anonymity, but you'll get an idea of what the first post was from my words below
Responding to the thread that generated from the post took me a while, and made me think a lot about stuff that I haven't considered in a while, and due to this, I want to share it here. I'll read back upon this in the future, and I'm sure my views will have shifted, and I think this is a nice snapshot for this moment in time.
My words verbatim. The words in italics have been added for this posting to elaborate on the backstory.
--//--
First off, I think the way I read the original post was "if you don't hate your birth body, you aren't doing trans right", which in retrospect may have been a mistake so I apologize for that. We have a TON of "you aren't the right type of trans" in our communities, and it sickens me, even though I am guilty of thinking the same thoughts occasionally (i.e , I still have problems with a furry guy wearing a dress, and I don't want to have those problems, but in all honesty, I do.... trying to be fully honest here ).
I remember in my agonizing over whether I should transition or not (I finally did it at 35, only last year), when I spent a week or two alone, my dysphoria was almost easy to handle. Yes I wanted to be female, and no I can't explain why, but the fact that I was male in a male body wasn't the end of the world. It was when I was around people that I would get triggered all of the time, and those are definitely social cues affecting me, after all, what else could they be?.
------
I posed the question of, if you lived on a desert island, never having contact with another human being, would you still feel dysphoric....would you still be trans?
-------
I think if I lived on that hypothetical desert island, I wouldn't have had these problems. And that concept held me back for a long time.... i.e..... maybe I'm not really trans.... maybe I'm just screwed up / confused / whatever.
But since I don't live secluded on a desert island, I still had to deal with the world, and the world saw me as male, and treated me as such. I knew I was going to end up killing myself over it, but I never felt hate or discomfort about my body, it was a hatred that was from me to the world in not seeing me the way I wanted to be seen, in the way that I saw myself, after all, not all women have curves, or even feminine figures, many have receeding hairlines, or masculine muscles, yet they are still seen as women. Why couldn't I be seen that way in my former body?... because that's not how our world works
-------
she stated that in her belief system, gender has no place in human society and that it has been used as a tool to repress women
--------
Personally, I don't believe that gender has no place in the human world. Gender stereotypes are bullshit, that's for sure, and a feminine spirit can exist within a male body just as much as a masculine spirit can exist in a female body, without being trans in any way. Restricting each person's expression is what bothers me in our society, seeing masculine traits as positive and feminine traits as negative, that infuriates me and there is NO reason for that to be so prevalent, but I do believe that there is essentially a duality, and yes, people can traverse that duality, people can be in the middle of that duality, it's not fixed, it's not tied to genitalia, but to me, it is a basic part of nature. It's everywhere in nature, and we are all part of nature, so what would make humans different than any other living creature on this planet?. I truly feel, and always felt, that I had a feminine / female / woman's soul within me, and maybe if I had been raised in a culture which celebrated this, maybe then I wouldn't have had to physically transition..... I don't know, impossible to say. But within the culture and reality that we inhabit, I had no choice to match my physical to what I feel is my spirit.
The other wrench in the equation for me is simply that without T in my system, and having E in it's place, I simply feel better. I feel more alive, I don't feel held back by the rage that used to fill me. Even while completely alone, where social gender doesn't exist (back to the desert island concept, and kind of screws the desert island concept), I feel at peace, I feel more like I think I should feel, I feel like I fit in my body.... perhaps this is the "identifying with your body" that you were referring to and that I may have misunderstood?. Science tells us that hormones shouldn't have psychological impact on our actual brain matter, so when I'm not in a social environment, I'm not being soothed by being seen as female, why does it make such an enormous difference in me?. Who knows, but all trans folk that I know have felt the same way, regardless of the direction they're travelling in.
Even though it seems I pass a lot of the time (that still surprises the fuck out of me to be honest), I still have certain male physical features, and yes, I still have my penis, but none of this bothers me, it doesn't make me feel less of a woman. I don't have a *female* body, I have a *feminine* body (and I consider my genitalia feminine as well even though it technically is the opposite of that), and that feels wonderful to me, with or without the social interaction, which again screws up the desert island hypothesis. So maybe I was a bit more body dysphoric than I had thought when sitting down to write this post, who knows, I'm only a year old and figuring myself out still , I think I could have survived having a male body and still lead a decent life, I know I wouldn't have been able to continue being seen as male, I was ready to check out because of that
does any of this make sense?
Friday, 15 August 2014
Doors
So.... it's been an interesting month.....
An old friend who I thought was supportive of me, someone from my past, who cheerleaded me through transition, who I've written about before, has become a TERF (google it if you don't know, I don't feel like getting into it).... that kind of fucked me up a bit. Just realized it last night, tried to ask her about it and she immediately blocked me.... oh well....
I wonder what fueled her hatred, I hope she finds her way out of her darkness at one point. Either way, a door closes. Part of life I suppose
Someone who became a very good friend in a very short amount of time flipped out at me for being a feminist, who he sees as the cause of all the worlds ills and gave me an ultimatum to give up my ideology or lose him as a friend..... another door closes.
And that really cute teacher that I was jiving with so well?, gay.... dammit.... hehehehehehehehehheh. A wonderful guy, I enjoy our classes immensely and I'm improving fast, and I also enjoy hanging with him and I'm looking forward to getting to know him better. Not just a teacher, I consider him a friend. The door remains open, and probably in a better way than I had originally pined for
The one from across the country, I was getting my hopes up, starting to count on him, and when I realized that he probably wasn't going to come see me like he said he would, it hit me, I was doing it again, before I'm ready to do so, ignoring the red flags as usual, using him as a boost to my moods. The door isn't closed, but it's changed, lets say its ajar...
We had our first trans pride march this past Sunday, a wonderful day, marching and chanting through the city, screaming for our rights to be taken seriously by the government. See.... while half of Canada has already removed the requirement for genital surgery before we can be accepted legally as our new genders... and while Quebec has officially rescinded that law last December, they haven't put into place what the new rules will be, how it will work now that they have declared the old way as discriminatory, so nothing has changed for us. I'm still considered legally male, so if I want a new passport, it will have a big fucking M on it, and I'm not accepting that and the danger that it will bring to me. We'll kick that fucking door down dammit
I made a choice this summer to no longer give my time to those who aren't interested in giving their time to me. That shut a couple of doors, and while it hurt and filled me with anxiety that I'm being "mean", it was necessary to do so.
Became very close to a couple friends I've known for a while, opened up, and they to me. Great women, great support, lots of love. Doors bursting open
I got to be interviewed by a journalist for a piece on Radio Canada, which overall went really well even though the piece ended up only 5 minutes long and had a bit of misquoting in it. She closed with the fact that I've been essentially grounded from travelling due to Quebec not getting their head out of their ass with respect to our gender markers, not grounded by my company I should add, but grounded by fear of being pulled aside by ignorant customs agents, drilled about what I am, not something that any of us should be put through. A door to shedding ignorance cracked open a bit, I want to do more of this, more talks, more activism
During the march I ran into an old trans friend of mine who now works at the support group I went to a lifetime ago. She asks me to come by, I decline as the stories of those that go are not mine, these are the sad stories, the ones that I was so afraid of when I started on this path, these aren't people that I can connect with at that level. She understands me, but tells me that I can be a positive story to raise their spirits, that I don't need more support but that I can help these women and men. I think about it, and realize she is right, and I'll be going next Monday. A door opens wide that I can invite people through, I keep getting told what an inspiration I can be, let's make it matter shall we?
I ran into another woman at the march that I had only met once, almost two years ago, she was with this wonderful young trans woman, just entering womanhood, who has been having a rough time of it due to location, finances, etc. She needs strength, and she took to mine like a fish to water. I love her already, I see the stunning and fierce woman that she will grow into even if she doesn't. I'm taking her under my wing, I'll do my best so she can start opening her own doors.
Still meeting new people all the time, wonderful, interesting, crazy and beautiful characters. Little doors here and there, peeking through into different worlds, different experiences, different realities.
looking back over this time, I guess a lot of stuff has happened that could have been devastating, and while some of it hurt, it hasn't put me down, hasn't pushed me back into the darkness, or that green fog. I keep strutting my stuff, closing doors that I no longer need, kicking through others, standing up for myself, doing what I need to do
and that's a good thing
no
that's a great fucking thing
peace
An old friend who I thought was supportive of me, someone from my past, who cheerleaded me through transition, who I've written about before, has become a TERF (google it if you don't know, I don't feel like getting into it).... that kind of fucked me up a bit. Just realized it last night, tried to ask her about it and she immediately blocked me.... oh well....
I wonder what fueled her hatred, I hope she finds her way out of her darkness at one point. Either way, a door closes. Part of life I suppose
Someone who became a very good friend in a very short amount of time flipped out at me for being a feminist, who he sees as the cause of all the worlds ills and gave me an ultimatum to give up my ideology or lose him as a friend..... another door closes.
And that really cute teacher that I was jiving with so well?, gay.... dammit.... hehehehehehehehehheh. A wonderful guy, I enjoy our classes immensely and I'm improving fast, and I also enjoy hanging with him and I'm looking forward to getting to know him better. Not just a teacher, I consider him a friend. The door remains open, and probably in a better way than I had originally pined for
The one from across the country, I was getting my hopes up, starting to count on him, and when I realized that he probably wasn't going to come see me like he said he would, it hit me, I was doing it again, before I'm ready to do so, ignoring the red flags as usual, using him as a boost to my moods. The door isn't closed, but it's changed, lets say its ajar...
We had our first trans pride march this past Sunday, a wonderful day, marching and chanting through the city, screaming for our rights to be taken seriously by the government. See.... while half of Canada has already removed the requirement for genital surgery before we can be accepted legally as our new genders... and while Quebec has officially rescinded that law last December, they haven't put into place what the new rules will be, how it will work now that they have declared the old way as discriminatory, so nothing has changed for us. I'm still considered legally male, so if I want a new passport, it will have a big fucking M on it, and I'm not accepting that and the danger that it will bring to me. We'll kick that fucking door down dammit
I made a choice this summer to no longer give my time to those who aren't interested in giving their time to me. That shut a couple of doors, and while it hurt and filled me with anxiety that I'm being "mean", it was necessary to do so.
Became very close to a couple friends I've known for a while, opened up, and they to me. Great women, great support, lots of love. Doors bursting open
I got to be interviewed by a journalist for a piece on Radio Canada, which overall went really well even though the piece ended up only 5 minutes long and had a bit of misquoting in it. She closed with the fact that I've been essentially grounded from travelling due to Quebec not getting their head out of their ass with respect to our gender markers, not grounded by my company I should add, but grounded by fear of being pulled aside by ignorant customs agents, drilled about what I am, not something that any of us should be put through. A door to shedding ignorance cracked open a bit, I want to do more of this, more talks, more activism
During the march I ran into an old trans friend of mine who now works at the support group I went to a lifetime ago. She asks me to come by, I decline as the stories of those that go are not mine, these are the sad stories, the ones that I was so afraid of when I started on this path, these aren't people that I can connect with at that level. She understands me, but tells me that I can be a positive story to raise their spirits, that I don't need more support but that I can help these women and men. I think about it, and realize she is right, and I'll be going next Monday. A door opens wide that I can invite people through, I keep getting told what an inspiration I can be, let's make it matter shall we?
I ran into another woman at the march that I had only met once, almost two years ago, she was with this wonderful young trans woman, just entering womanhood, who has been having a rough time of it due to location, finances, etc. She needs strength, and she took to mine like a fish to water. I love her already, I see the stunning and fierce woman that she will grow into even if she doesn't. I'm taking her under my wing, I'll do my best so she can start opening her own doors.
Still meeting new people all the time, wonderful, interesting, crazy and beautiful characters. Little doors here and there, peeking through into different worlds, different experiences, different realities.
looking back over this time, I guess a lot of stuff has happened that could have been devastating, and while some of it hurt, it hasn't put me down, hasn't pushed me back into the darkness, or that green fog. I keep strutting my stuff, closing doors that I no longer need, kicking through others, standing up for myself, doing what I need to do
and that's a good thing
no
that's a great fucking thing
peace
Thursday, 17 July 2014
Mirrors..... passing..... thoughts
I glance at myself in a mirror, I still see a shadow on my face where the beard used to be. I approach the mirror, put my face a few inches away from it, puff out my lip. I hunt for the dark hairs, the survivors, the stragglers.... they're nowhere to be seen.
I pull away from the mirror, I still see the shadow, but the shadow is in my mind, it's not real. I'm the only one that sees it, I know, I've checked, both with people who have known both sides of my weird little coin, as well as with those who have only known the new me...... real me......
I occasionally get hit on by random strangers, nothing creepy or negative, at least not yet, but it does happen. To me, I'm still visible, still obviously trans, but again, that seems to be just in my head. I wasn't expecting this, being able to pass, without trying, without heavy makeup and perfect outfits. One would think that this is the goal right?, actually, for me it complicates things. I don't know if they know, if I reciprocate on the flirting, and they don't know, what will happen when they find out?... because that painter that is working on my building who always stops his work and finds a reason to chat with me.... holy crap is he ever cute. It's like I have this piece of cake being dangled in front of me, but I'm scared to reach out for it. If I knew he knew and he was still acting that way, great, I feel safe, but now?, not so much.
I'm getting what I've always wanted, and it scares me.....
I started a new contact staff class, went out for a few drinks with the teacher after class, a funny way to name myself as trans came up in a conversation and I took it.... turns out I blew his mind.... I had to convince him I used to be the guy that I showed him a picture of, in his words, he would have never guessed in a million years..... and I do my class in knee length leggings and a spaghetti strap camisole (tank top), body completely visible to all that are interested, and he didn't know.
{I kind of ended up in bed with the last teacher, this guy is way cuter, I wanted to make sure he knew who I was}
Yet when I look at myself in the mirror, I can still tell, I think I'll always see him. Which is weird because when I look back at my life, I see her.... a trans woman yes.... but a woman none the less. My memories are shifting, it's amazing how malleable our minds are, how our memories can be altered, makes me wonder about the very nature of reality, but that's another discussion.
I'm coming out of a fog, a fog that has great success in pulling me back in and enveloping me in green smoke, but I'm crawling out, I'll fight it, I won't let myself slip back. It's a good thing
peace
I pull away from the mirror, I still see the shadow, but the shadow is in my mind, it's not real. I'm the only one that sees it, I know, I've checked, both with people who have known both sides of my weird little coin, as well as with those who have only known the new me...... real me......
I occasionally get hit on by random strangers, nothing creepy or negative, at least not yet, but it does happen. To me, I'm still visible, still obviously trans, but again, that seems to be just in my head. I wasn't expecting this, being able to pass, without trying, without heavy makeup and perfect outfits. One would think that this is the goal right?, actually, for me it complicates things. I don't know if they know, if I reciprocate on the flirting, and they don't know, what will happen when they find out?... because that painter that is working on my building who always stops his work and finds a reason to chat with me.... holy crap is he ever cute. It's like I have this piece of cake being dangled in front of me, but I'm scared to reach out for it. If I knew he knew and he was still acting that way, great, I feel safe, but now?, not so much.
I'm getting what I've always wanted, and it scares me.....
I started a new contact staff class, went out for a few drinks with the teacher after class, a funny way to name myself as trans came up in a conversation and I took it.... turns out I blew his mind.... I had to convince him I used to be the guy that I showed him a picture of, in his words, he would have never guessed in a million years..... and I do my class in knee length leggings and a spaghetti strap camisole (tank top), body completely visible to all that are interested, and he didn't know.
{I kind of ended up in bed with the last teacher, this guy is way cuter, I wanted to make sure he knew who I was}
Yet when I look at myself in the mirror, I can still tell, I think I'll always see him. Which is weird because when I look back at my life, I see her.... a trans woman yes.... but a woman none the less. My memories are shifting, it's amazing how malleable our minds are, how our memories can be altered, makes me wonder about the very nature of reality, but that's another discussion.
I'm coming out of a fog, a fog that has great success in pulling me back in and enveloping me in green smoke, but I'm crawling out, I'll fight it, I won't let myself slip back. It's a good thing
peace
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