Friday, July 3, 2015

Once, Upon a Memory



I was removing stuff from my home office the other day. I think I told you that I haven’t used his office for years and it needs paint. I’m reclaiming that space and taking a lot of his stuff out of there.

I know. It sounds strange. One minute I talk about how he is part of me. The next minute, I’m purging him from my life. Let me explain.

The man I was, failed. If I had to do it again, I wouldn’t have tried to be the boy I was born to be. No, I’m not talking about suicide. Although I’ve thought about it over the years, (Who hasn’t. It’s part of being transgender.). Anyway, knowing what I know now, I would be me. Transition wasn’t an option back then, but I would’ve lived according to who I was inside.

That being said, however, I’m very grateful for the joys of my life before. He received many blessings from God and he had good times, too. So while boxing memories that just don’t fit in the life of a fifty-something year young, woman, I relived some of his memories.

At first, I worried that recapping would help me remember and discourage my resolve. His football trophy, for example, reminded me of my determination to be the boy I was born to be and my method of doing that was to be aggressive, to gain respect by being tough. Could I do that again, thereby remaining a man?

No I cannot. I cannot live the rest of my life without transition. Something surprised me while boxing stuff, though. I fell in love with him. Some things were rough, but he did a good job for a long time. I raised my imaginary glass in a toast to him. We won many of the battles in the war against dysphoria. We lost many more of them. We made the most of our resources, and I’m proud of me.

Some of those memories are part of who I am now, and I’ll bring them back out of the box when I finish redecorating. When I wake up after GRS, I will be complete, but I will celebrate the journey and who he was, because he is me, and I am him. We are the woman that I am.

I think his dirty work hat, however, will stay in the box. I just can’t find a place for it in my feminine décor.
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1 comment:

  1. UnknownJuly 15, 2015 at 2:36 AM

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    You found your self in your boxes. 'He' is always your past, for better and worse. Hang in there; you, too, will achieve your goal. I have few people to share my former male past; few family accept my change, far fewer people outside my family know of my change which means frequently going into 'modified interpretation'. My visits down memory lane so far always have been alone. I look at my mementos and I re-assure that image of my younger male self - you made it, kiddo, you overcame your fears and life turned out better than your wildest imaginations.
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