people rock too

Another first: coming out via email, very uncomfortable! Before this, it had always been in person or over chat — fully interactive, and yes, also uncomfortable, but at least there was some idea right away of where you stood. This time, as soon as I hit the “send” button, and for the next ten hours: doubt, second-guessing, regret. And I’d thought it was bad while I was writing it!

This to just one person. I don’t know how people manage it with whole groups of people at once! But truth be told, it was very important to me that she know, even if it risked changing the dynamic of our relationship — or ending it entirely.

I did get a lovely response back the next morning, including this (which I hope she doesn’t mind me sharing):

I am not really surprised as I’ve always thought of you as being fluid genderwise and loved that about you. I knew you online and chatted with you as a woman – you imprinted that way. I’ll tell you what was a mindblowing surprise: learning _____ was a boy! omg! this, not so much.

I have a friend who just came out as trans to her boss the other day, and was surprised when it went so well. My response to her was “You ROCK. People rock too.” Would be well-advised to keep that close to my own heart as well.

…

Dreamt the other night that I was at a convention with two online friends. In real life, both know me as “Marie” online; only one knows I’m male, and neither knows I’m trans. In my dream, I was wearing the most drab, genderless outfit I could imagine — except for the most garish, pink (think Hello Kitty) pumps. And of course I had to sprint up to the second floor during the break so nobody could see which bathroom I used.

I woke up right about then, not even knowing which door I went through.

Story of my life.

sisyphus

Coming out. Does it ever get easier? It has to, right?

after

Well, that was a thing, wasn’t it?

Truth be told, I spent the next couple days walking on eggshells, not sure exactly what the fallout would be, after the talk. There were some early signs of weirdness, but things seem back to normal now. I don’t know if that’s necessarily a good or bad sign.

Anyway, I’m laying low right now. I’d built up so much anxiety over broaching the subject at all that once it was done, and unexpectedly smoothly at that… well, I think I’d been gearing up for an explosion that never materialized, and when it didn’t, I was left unmoored.

Still.

I’ll be making some calls this week, if I can get up the nerve. I’d forgotten how hard it was to pick up the phone the first time I entered therapy, and this time it’s so much more important.

I guess the first step is figuring out whom to call. It’ll all follow after that.

milestone

Well, we had “the talk.”

Boundaries have been set, but I guess I can start looking seriously for a gender therapist now.

Now exhale.

facing facts

I’m going to have to tell my wife before seeing a new therapist — a gender therapist. It’s only fair, and I do so hate sneaking around. I can’t reasonably expect to be honest to myself if I go with a policy of dishonesty from the outset, and besides, with young children about there’s not much opportunity to get away without notice anyway.

But to do that I’m going to have that hard conversation. Boundaries are going to have to be placed on the whole enterprise. She’ll need reassurances that there’s an end to this that won’t involve me becoming a woman, that won’t destabilize our lives, that won’t end with me being someone she can’t relate to anymore. That this is about support, sorting things out, learning to cope. That’s fine. I’m prepared to make those reassurances. I mean, that’s what I want, isn’t it?

It’s just that…. I don’t feel like I even know that I’m not lying to myself. Things have been so crazy lately, with my heart and mind leaping from possibility to possibility with abandon, that I feel I can’t trust myself to know when to stop… and the irony is, I really don’t think I can figure that out, without … the therapy. At least not now. The other option is to wait out the storm, let things settle to a new normal in my mind as I get used to this new me I’ve been giving form to here. Only, I can’t be sure I’ll get there on my own, either.

So, the talk. I’ve been going through the lines in my mind, especially that first, all-important, one. I don’t know when I’ll be able to speak it, but someday, someday…

Goddess, give me courage.

avatar

Incidentally.

I told my dear friend, the first one I ever chose to come out to, about this blog. We haven’t seen each other in years & have primarily interacted online since then. On reading it, she told me she’d forgotten that I wasn’t actually a woman.

It was maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I think I may have cried.

on coming out

It occurred to me this morning that I’d never really done an accounting of the people to whom I’ve come out. So I sat down and made a list, and it was so much shorter than I’d imagined: thirteen names, total.

Three were the boys from this unhappy tale, and one my then-future wife — those four were accidental, more or less. At the very least, I didn’t choose how or when to come out to them.

One was my therapist, which was fully by choice, but really kind of unavoidable.

The other eight are interesting. As you know, I’ve had a primarily female presence on the internet for years. Of these eight people, three were internet acquaintances who only knew me as “Marie” and had thought I was a ciswoman for years. So I had to kind of come out to each of them twice, in quick succession.

“I’m not a woman. / But I am, kind of. / I’m transsexual. / Not transitioning. / May never transition.”

That’s an awkward thing to put into internet chat. How do you break up the lines? What awkward things are happening during the whitespace in between sentences? How is that arrow between acceptance and rejection flipping back and forth?

Five knew me in real life but had been eased in somewhat by having  interacted been introduced to “Marie” for some time before I came out to them as trans. I’d thought it would be harder for those who knew “man me” to accept me as female or even quasi-female, but oddly (aside from maybe the very first time), these actually went more easily. Probably because it looked more like this.

“I’m not a woman. / But I am, kind of. / I’m transsexual. / Not transitioning. / May never transition.”

To be sure, I thought long and hard about whether these were the right people, tried to judge how they’d react, in each and every case. These were as close to a friendly audience as I could reasonably predict. Nothing’s a sure thing, especially where coming out is concerned — every single time was a nerve-wracking experience — but I’ve been so blessed that each attempt was met so positively, and with so much support. My friends really are lovely!

It’s certainly given me strength to maybe add some more names to the list.

But there’s a cold, hard truth there: I’ve never really had to face the idea of coming out cold, to those who know me only as a man. It’s another whole level of frightening. I don’t even know if I have it in me.

I hope I do. Maybe someday.

got monsters

I’m just testing sharing a video link. Besides, it’s wonderful.

This video seriously made me cry. The singer, Keith Mina Caputo, just came out as trans a few days ago. You can really feel it in every note.

wilderness

I would like to take a brief moment to apologize. Being this unfiltered is both new and uncomfortable to me, and I’m still trying to feel out where the boundaries are. It’s true that my main audience is myself here — this is therapy, as much as anything I’ve ever done. But I’m aware that (lovely, wonderful) people are reading as well, and I’m both grateful for and constantly mindful of that.

So! Please, please, if somewhere I’ve gotten a little too naked, or insensitive in my self-centered musings; or in general say something you feel just isn’t right, please do let me know. I’m learning this as I go.

It’s ironic that my other blog, which is all coded messaging, subterfuge and art — the product of so much blood and tears — now seems so easy in comparison.

すみません!

Love,
Marie.

ariadne

I saw a gorgeous transwoman standing in the cafeteria at work today. She was waiting for something at the seafood station, dressed in a summery, beige skirtsuit. I’m sure no one else noticed anything out of the ordinary — to the untrained eye, she probably passed flawlessly. But I have a lifetime’s worth of learning how to see. It’s the only way I can be sure I’m not alone. I’m not perfect at it, of course, but today I was certain.

It’s so tacky that in my mind’s eye, I’m always tempted in these situations to go up to a complete stranger and tell her she’s beautiful. I mean, not only when someone is gorgeous and easily passing, but in general, when I see anyone I recognize as MtF*. I’m sure it’s partly a reaction to being completely closeted and having no one to talk to in person about being trans. The other, more petty half, is envy, which automatically makes my motives suspect. What am I hoping will happen? That I’ll make a new friend, or even get a brief moment of rapport? It’s insane. Obvious, obvious desperation.

And, if she’s stunning, like today, my head is filled with: If only I could look like her. Pass like her.  Oh, there we go. I wish I were…, she says, five more times. The tally for the day rises.

And hey, congratulations! I’ve objectified a woman based on her looks! I’m a horrible person.

…

Meanwhile, there’s danger afoot. I’ve caught myself presenting more effeminately at work, in posture and movement. My nails have gotten noticeably long again, and I find myself slipping back and forth between my normal voice and something slightly higher-pitched, slightly more flowery. I’m sure it’s a lot more subtle than my racing mind imagines, but this is work. It’s roughly the last place I want to be out at the moment.

But these things are tied together. I’ve said before that I see transgendered coworkers all the time, and I generally only stay within a two-building radius of my own office. It stands to reason then that if I’m looking for a community to belong to, that this is the likeliest place for me to discover one. But how to find it without gathering up the nerve to ask someone? And how do I even find out whom to ask?

So I plant my thread, like Ariadne, and hope someone follows it to me. It’s a dangerous, and imprecise. But it’s something.

(*Ugh, that reads badly. I’m not trying to imply that only MtFs are beautiful (I certainly don’t think so!), but that this urge mainly hits me with MtFs… which reinforces the idea that it’s at least partially a product of physical envy.)