Sometimes I feel that the easy thing to do would be starting my life over again.
I know that my transition is going well, that I have no health problems and that almost everybody is fine with this. I know I’m having one of the easiest transitions I know of, and I’m lucky for that. And I also know that I should be grateful for this and stop complaining.
The thing is, sometimes it’s hard to feel so good even when the sun shines and everything is so fine. And I feel a bit guilty about this.
I think I can count a lot of friends now. I’ve met most of them in the last five years, and many come by the hand of my partner. And yet, we have already a background.
We’ve shared events, places, anecdotes already. They have formed an image of me, based in these years’ experiences. They have an idea of what I like, what I dislike and what is it to be expected from me.
And most of that stuff is plainly wrong, because I never talked about what I really liked, or disliked. I’ve missed things I would have loved on purpose, because I didn’t want to be there as a boy. The feeling of not being able to enjoy those things as a boy was too hard on me, so I preserved my feelings. I’ve deflected a lot.
And I retained the geeky, nerdy stuff and the absurd humour, because it was a safe ground.
So, in the end, I know a lot of people, and I know they have a friend on me. I feel that way, because I (more or less) know them, because they were not deflecting. So I can love them as they are, and I can think of ways of making them happy. Maybe I’m wrong, though.
But I have this strong feeling that they don’t know me at all.
A gender transition has many, many hard obstacles to overcome. The first and more obvious is the looks, the being able of going out as a girl, maybe pass (or not), and be able to be comfortable in public. Okay, check.
Then I feel there is all this stuff of being happy with one’s life. This part of trying to cope with your old crap, and not crumble. I’m at this point.
Because I can’t recall a happy memory from the past, one happy moment with my friends, without thinking that I wasn’t really happy then. I just looked happy. And maybe in that moment I was oblivious to my feelings, but they were still there. Each time somebody calls me by my old name, it hurts a bit, because it reminds me that maybe this person doesn’t know me that well.
And I have this bunch of memories of moments that I had to hid myself the hard way, to bit my lip and say “meh…” to something I really loved. Sometimes there were things I wanted to ask a thousand questions about, and I had to just look away. I wanted to enjoy those things, but not that way.
I’m so different from the person my friends know…
I have just a few friends who I’ve met in the last months. I feel different with them. They won’t say my old name, because I’ve always gone by my new name. We have few memories from the past yet, but all those moments don’t hurt when I remember them. I can talk with them about my past life, because they just accept that it was me, trapped in a male body. With them I’ve always been a woman. With them I’ve never hidden the things I like.
With all the rest, I’ve got this need to talk. To talk a lot, for hours, so that they can know who I am. And it feels selfish to me, because I’m asking for the same effort twice. But that person they know, it wasn’t me. Still, I can’t change that perception in their minds. It’s more like I was a man before, and now I’m a woman. So I’ll have to bit my lip for a long time yet, while they know better the boy I was than the woman I am.
I guess that, with time, I’ll start doing all this stuff I want. I’ll talk about the things that interest me. I’ll go to places I want to go, and listen to music I want to listen to. I’ll dress the way I like, and they’ll become used to be with this other person they don’t know yet. But it is like starting over. We just met, but I already know you.
I don’t want to leave, because I really feel that I’m loved now. But sometimes my past is so heavy that I’d wish to run away and start things anew.
Update: I have this fear of having screwed things too bad by denying myself for too long. Of having broken something that can’t be fixed. But those were my choices in life, then. And a lot of them sucked, but they made me who I am right now. And I can’t say I’m not proud of who I am. All I can regret is not having been happy during a lot of time. But I got pieces of happiness. And I met a lot of great people. And now I can get this happiness I was missing.
Let’s not screw that too.