COMING OUT
It's June. That means it's pride month.
And it's time for me to tell my whole truth.
I'm transgender.
A year ago, on the 11th of June, I came out to my grandmother. She was the first person I openly came out to. I'd been drinking the entire day and I'd gone downstairs to make a snack when she called me over. I wasn't really in a chatty mood, but I headed over anyway. "What's up with you? I don't see you much these days." I shrugged and didn't know what to say. I just felt this fuzziness in front of me. I don't know if it was the stress of having to live a double life or the alcohol or a combination of the two, but I said, "Barb, I'm transgender." She tilted her head and asked me to explain what it was because she wasn't really sure.
I told her that inside I knew I am a boy, a man, male and that it doesn't match my outside appearance. That I wanted to transition from female to male and be the person that I always knew I was. She asked me why the outside mattered so much and I told her that it causes me so much distress. That it feels like I'm left out of all the things I want to do, that I feel trapped in a body that's not mine. She didn't say anything for a while and it made me uncomfortable. I was getting up to leave when she said, "It doesn't matter." The way she said it was like complete invalidation. Another bigot in the family who wants to shame me, tell me that I'm sick or unnatural or disgusting. I stood up and she repeated, "It doesn't matter to me. It doesn't matter that you're tran-whatever the hell that is. You know you. And you know what's best for you. You're smart, you'll make the choices that are right for you."
That was the first time I ever mentioned anything out loud in person. I thought that something would change; that I'd be or at least feel a little bit free. The conversation didn't seem to stick with her. She didn't want to call me my male name or ever ask me anything else. I don't even know why she asked. It wasn't anything like I thought it would be, it was nice, even though she didn't understand it really. It weighed on me though. In the months that followed, I felt like the words were just empty and hollow, that she only said these things to appease me in some way; because if she really understood or wished to be supportive she would have actually made an effort.
Fast forward to Christmas of the same year.
Barb had died less than a month before and in watching her die, I realised that I didn't want to be caged anymore. I didn't want to have to hide out of fear and shame. Pookie had been poking around, per usual, so out of frustration and not wanting to have to hide who I was, to turn the release valve on my emotional pressure cooker, I came out to her. I knew it was going to end in disaster, especially after she flipped out about the bisexual love letter/confession she had found in my clothes when I was 15.
Comments had been made before, negative things and I couldn't take it anymore, so I told her that I was a man, I knew that I was, that I am indeed transgendered and that I wanted to have the surgeries so that I might feel okay or even comfortable in my body. She went fucking postal. She screamed at me that I have a mental disorder that it's not right or natural. She told me to stop trying to be like those "freaks" on the Internet and that they made me this way. All the abuse I suffered at the hands of my classmates and random people online (she doesn't even know the full extent of it.) Yes, because being made fun of, exiled and hated makes someone transgender. She also told me that being gay was a mental disorder and that I needed help. She'd never accepted this and would never be supportive in my decision to transition.
I felt even more disgusted. I didn't expect her outburst to be so hate filled, but it really didn't surprise me. I really don't understand why anyone would be bothered by this. Wouldn't you want your child to live a decent life, a life where they feel comfortable in their skin? Maybe a life that's borderline happy? She's incapable of feeling joy for anyone else and always has to be a cunt when someone has an opposing viewpoint or belief. I'm not surprised with her reaction, just disgusted that she continues to be a hateful, abusive bigot.
Even though I am out to my therapist, close friends and live as a man in many aspects of my life, I have to play dress up for her. Pretend that I'm not transitioning. I can only imagine what's going to happen when she finds out I'm filing legal name changing papers and am going forward. After the outburst with her, I withdrew more. I felt worse about myself for being this way. I took out my rage and anger at not being enough on myself when I did nothing to deserve it. I always knew I was a boy, but that's a blog for another day. I'd love to talk to other people who are trans, transitioning or have. If you want to share your stories, experience or advice, please feel free to do so.
I've argued with myself back and forth for a year, debating whether or not I should come out on a more public stage. I didn't know what to do, I still don't. Telling my truth in this format, for all to say is. I've been scared to do this. Worried that it would cost me more than I'm willing to pay. I've already lost so much in my life and I can't handle more being stolen from me. I've always been on the reciving end of torment and iscolation and I'm at breaking point. I always feel outside no matter how baldy I want to be let in and try to be. I'm not even sure why I've posted this blog. I'm sure that it will only bring upon further feelings of iscolation and self-hatred. I know that no one is going to engage with this and I'll feel even more like a fucking loser, but I just had to try.
BUY THE FLAG:
https://www.redbubble.com/people/spacealientees/works/26776273-lgbt-rainbow-and-transgender-pride-flag-heart?cat_context=u-prints&grid_pos=1&p=poster&rbs=dacf68fd-4bf3-4b34-bb30-63a97b84bbf0&ref=shop_grid
Fast forward to Christmas of the same year.
Barb had died less than a month before and in watching her die, I realised that I didn't want to be caged anymore. I didn't want to have to hide out of fear and shame. Pookie had been poking around, per usual, so out of frustration and not wanting to have to hide who I was, to turn the release valve on my emotional pressure cooker, I came out to her. I knew it was going to end in disaster, especially after she flipped out about the bisexual love letter/confession she had found in my clothes when I was 15.
Comments had been made before, negative things and I couldn't take it anymore, so I told her that I was a man, I knew that I was, that I am indeed transgendered and that I wanted to have the surgeries so that I might feel okay or even comfortable in my body. She went fucking postal. She screamed at me that I have a mental disorder that it's not right or natural. She told me to stop trying to be like those "freaks" on the Internet and that they made me this way. All the abuse I suffered at the hands of my classmates and random people online (she doesn't even know the full extent of it.) Yes, because being made fun of, exiled and hated makes someone transgender. She also told me that being gay was a mental disorder and that I needed help. She'd never accepted this and would never be supportive in my decision to transition.
I felt even more disgusted. I didn't expect her outburst to be so hate filled, but it really didn't surprise me. I really don't understand why anyone would be bothered by this. Wouldn't you want your child to live a decent life, a life where they feel comfortable in their skin? Maybe a life that's borderline happy? She's incapable of feeling joy for anyone else and always has to be a cunt when someone has an opposing viewpoint or belief. I'm not surprised with her reaction, just disgusted that she continues to be a hateful, abusive bigot.
Even though I am out to my therapist, close friends and live as a man in many aspects of my life, I have to play dress up for her. Pretend that I'm not transitioning. I can only imagine what's going to happen when she finds out I'm filing legal name changing papers and am going forward. After the outburst with her, I withdrew more. I felt worse about myself for being this way. I took out my rage and anger at not being enough on myself when I did nothing to deserve it. I always knew I was a boy, but that's a blog for another day. I'd love to talk to other people who are trans, transitioning or have. If you want to share your stories, experience or advice, please feel free to do so.
I've argued with myself back and forth for a year, debating whether or not I should come out on a more public stage. I didn't know what to do, I still don't. Telling my truth in this format, for all to say is. I've been scared to do this. Worried that it would cost me more than I'm willing to pay. I've already lost so much in my life and I can't handle more being stolen from me. I've always been on the reciving end of torment and iscolation and I'm at breaking point. I always feel outside no matter how baldy I want to be let in and try to be. I'm not even sure why I've posted this blog. I'm sure that it will only bring upon further feelings of iscolation and self-hatred. I know that no one is going to engage with this and I'll feel even more like a fucking loser, but I just had to try.
BUY THE FLAG:
https://www.redbubble.com/people/spacealientees/works/26776273-lgbt-rainbow-and-transgender-pride-flag-heart?cat_context=u-prints&grid_pos=1&p=poster&rbs=dacf68fd-4bf3-4b34-bb30-63a97b84bbf0&ref=shop_grid
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