Fitting In

Every so often I’ll have an off day, not really a bad day, just an off day. I don’t have bad days as often as I used to. Today, was an off day. While I’m having a lot of issue with my transportation that I shouldn’t be having and I am extremely angry about it, that’s not what caused me to be off.

I’ve had this happen to me before, when the little voice in the back of my head tells me I’ll never really fit in anywhere. I can usually strap Hello Kitty duct tape over its mouth and ignore it, but today…It was just over whelming. This is the voice that tells me I’ve never fit in as my birth sex and I’ll never fit in as my mental sex. It whispers to me that I’ll never be able to fully adapt to living as one or the other, but that I’ll always be a mixture of the two. While that would be okay with me if the world was a nicer place that understood people that are trans* that isn’t the case.

People don’t understand being trans* unless they themselves are. No matter how many different ways I try to explain it, explain myself, it is a rare occasion that anyone understands what I mean let alone completely understand. I’ve been with Emily for almost eight years and I don’t think that she completely understands. She’s got a better grasp of who and what I am than most people do, but she really doesn’t understand. It’s like trying to describe color to someone born without sight.

The hardest letter to represent in the Rainbow Soup is the T. People can understand being gay, lesbian, or bisexual, because they are just variations in sexual orientation. The person is completely fine with their born sex. They aren’t trapped in a gender prison of skin that they have to live with day in and day out until they are able to transition, IF they are able to transition.

Even if we are able to transition can we really lead anything close to a normal life? Imagine how hard it is for a trans* person trying to date after having SRS. How would that conversation even be breeched? “Oh by the way, I was born a guy/girl but I’ve transitioned?” I’m sure there can be times when it isn’t even talked about but I couldn’t keep something like that from my wife. Whether I like it or not, its part of who I am. Who I was born as. The fact that genetics fucked me over royally isn’t something I’m proud of, but I am proud of how I have chosen to deal with it. I’m proud that I am still here today, some 28 (almost 29) years later and that I’m finally transitioning into the man I was born to be.