I missed a week due to being sick. I don't really have much to talk about, but I think I have an unexpected topic to share.
When I was in middle school and high school, I didn't have a word for what I was feeling. "Transgender" didn't even register on my radar as something that even existed. Lesbian, bisexual, nothing in terms of sexual preference made sense. I was attracted to girls. I wanted to be with girls and I never saw myself as a female when it came to dating. But I did want something...different.
I felt something I couldn't describe. I had heard about gay people who would get married and have families before the truth either ate away at them or they came out. I thought I could do the same thing. I thought, hoped...even prayed, that if I could find a guy who would find me attractive, I could bury these feelings. I tried, too. I threw myself into someone, made him my best friend and strived to be in a relationship with him.
It became my salvation. If I could make him love me, I could love me. I could get married, experience love, have a family. Keep my family honor. Make my mom happy. I tried. So very hard. It was futile. I cringed the one time he kissed me on the cheek. It wasn't bad, per say, but it was uncomfortable. My brain processed it as tender and kind, nothing to be afraid of, but it was also against what I felt was my nature.
It wasn't until reconnecting with an ex that I fully realized that I couldn't be with a guy, that I had chosen this particular person because I wanted to be like him, not be with him. When my ex and I broke up for the last time in 2006, I had finally put all the pieces together. Colby was more prominent in my attitude and behavior, I was more male and masculine. There was no more need to live two separate lives, no need to pretend I was somebody I wasn't. I was finally able to be me. I was comfortable in my skin...well, I was getting there.
There is this perception, among the gay and transgender communities, that if we push it down hard and long enough, it will go away. If we can find something or someone to just throw ourselves into, we won't focus on what about us isn't conforming to "normal" by societies standards. I did that, I totally did. And I was miserable the whole fucking time. I was miserable for years, until I was able to throw myself into myself. That's when it all made sense.
Don't push it down. Search, research, and search some more. Ask questions. Reconsider the life you have and the life you want. It's hard, that is a given. It's scary, yet another given. But I'm coming to terms with the fact that this is MY life.. I may not have a child of my own blood, but I have two children in my life that I utterly adore and would give my life for. When my mom gets to know them, she will accept them and realize that even though her blood line ends with me, she can still be a grandmother.
The journey isn't roses, it isn't rainbows and unicorns, but it worthwhile. It is. I promise you. I met a woman, after about five years of struggling to find myself, who encouraged the very best in me and inspired me to be the best version of myself. She has given me more than I could ever anticipate. She has helped me on my journey and I am eternally grateful to her for all that she does.
I've stopped trying to throw myself into things to avoid looking in the mirror, to avoid the feelings of being abnormal. I found a way to take what makes me different and make it part of my normalcy, part of my journey. I know who I want to be. I know who I am.
