Effort…

Actually, I think it’s not a matter of vulnerability, or aggression. I am talking about the sushi incident.

As a friend said recently to me, it’s a matter of effort.

In a day-to-day basis, my reality is quite uncomfortable. Reasons why, there are plenty of them. It is a personal space thing, probably. I don’t own my space. I’ve never done. I’m alert, as I’ve always been.

It makes no sense being alert. I mean, no more than usual. And probably I could afford being even less alert. I just had an uncomfortable moment with a guy who didn’t realise he was approaching a transsexual person, and that probably didn’t know how to approach one. And he actually did quite well, because he didn’t know what had happened. I corrected him, and he stuck to the correction.

I’m tense. It was a stressful moment, as if I needed any more stress in my life. I’m always making another small effort. And then another, and another one. I just need time to relax.

And I’m tense because I don’t feel comfortable if I’m not in control. I can’t control other people, I must accept that. I like to know what others think of me, because it gives me information about how to deal with them. I don’t like interacting with people unprepared or unaware. I like to know from where the blows will be coming.

It’s not healthy. It takes a lot of energy. And in the end, it makes me feel bad.

It’s a huge effort dealing with people when you don’t know how many of them will react badly to you, and when you may expect many of them doing so. Even when your expectations are a lot worse than reality. So far, most people have been perfectly correct to me.

However, I need a bit of time alone.

Time…

I need time.

It’s not so early now. I’ve been thinking and writing for a couple of hours now, and I wish I could stay here for a couple more.

I haven’t written in a long time.

But I need to move. I need to go to work, and put off everything what’s important for me now, for the sake of duty. And I need to pack my feelings and be professional.

I need time.

Vulnerable…

When you think you’ve occupied your space; when you think you’re comfortable in your world, something happens. And you feel vulnerable again.

And it doesn’t need to be something big.

Yesterday I was walking home from work. I had my plans for the evening in my mind. Having a quick meal, then a short nap, and then start working out again.

As I was opening the building door, the owner of the sushi bar passed by. Some years ago, girlfriend and I were quite adept to this sushi bar. We’d order sushi at least once a week, and the people there would treat us very warmly and politely. We liked that place.

But as I transitioned, as I removed my beard, I grew more and more reserved. I felt uneasy outside, especially at those places where I was known. People could notice me changing, and sometimes they were puzzled.

This was the case at the sushi bar. They started making comments about my skin, about how soft it was becoming. Maybe it was just politeness, but I felt uncomfortable. So, in the end, we stopped going there.

Yesterday, the owner of the place passed by, and I don’t know why, but I said “hello”. And he recognized me.

So, he greeted me.

He was quite effusive, as he used to be. “Hello, Mister!”, he said. And, in the middle of the street, not knowing who was around, I explained him that I was not a “mister” any more, that I was rather a “miss”.

For me, this was too much to handle at the moment. I must say that he remained polite at every moment, and that he seemed to understand. He does not speak the local language quite fluently, so this made all the scene a bit more awkward. But I guess he understood, because he said that I looked pretty. We shook hands, and said goodbye.

I entered my apartment all cold and shaky. I guess it is normal. We have levels of acquaintances. We have relatives, and closer or distant friends, and then we have people who are just there. And transsexualism is a difficult matter. It always is.

It is a difficult matter because it is controversial. People they take positions about it, even when they shouldn’t. And the problem is that you cannot hide that you are a transsexual person, unless you pass.

I usually pass. I don’t raise quite a lot of suspicion. And it is quite likely that, if I hadn’t said “hello”, this would not have happened. But he recognized me, and then I felt exposed, and forced to talk with someone who is not so close about something that is quite intimate for me; something that is such a delicate matter, and that may cause many people to immediately take position against me.

I felt naked and vulnerable. Probably if I had had the chance to talk about this in a more relaxed way, in a safer place… It would not have felt more comfortable, but at least I would’t have felt so naked.

I don’t see bad intention here, however. This man was just greeting some person he had recognized. He was just being polite.

Maybe it is time to return to the sushi bar, and face my own fears…

The kitty asks for food…

The kitty asks for food. He wants to eat, right now. It’s only 5.25AM. I don’t know if he’ll let me finish this post, or if he will insist until I’ve fed him. I’m trying not to feed him until 6 o’clock, so that he gets used to it and doesn’t wake us up too early. But today I can’t sleep.

In these past months I’ve had my own emotional turmoil. I guess this was the reason why I stopped writing here. Depression grabbed me, and I couldn’t get free of it. I had to fight my way through it, just to be able to keep moving. I’ve been spending all my energies in keeping myself up and running.

I didn’t feel like writing. At least, not in a calm, orderly and thoughtful fashion.

It comes from a long way away, from those days when I started taking my blue pills of hormones. Today I can try to point out why this happened to me. I thought it was because of the girl, because I fell in love; but now I think it is more likely that it has to do with my own emotional fragility, my own vulnerability to some of the things that we usually face every day.

Too cryptic, maybe?

I’ve got a lot of writing to do. And I don’t believe this all fits in a single post.

In the meantime, the kitty insists. All right, I think. I put some of his food in his bowl. Now he goes back to bed, to cuddle up with my girl. At least, I got some quiet to write.

It feels nice to have my own space here. I’ve been missing this a lot.