Of late, this is the question that I have pondered most. As I commence my annual holiday, it is probably the first time in months that I have had an opportunity to think. The other allied question is do I ever want to escape?
Anyway, by way of update. Things are going ok. Mainly because I have thrown everything: heart, soul, blood, sweat, tears. Literally everything, into my work. Is it any wonder that work is going well? Those of you who have read this blog for some time will know that I use work as a kind of transgender escape tunnel. It pushes girl thoughts from my mind. Not completely. Obviously. Like most of you, approximately every 10 minutes, the pang of desperation to be a girl haunts my mind. The feeling of inadequacy that I'm not female. The constant wish that I was able to be myself. Pervading every thought. But when there is so much work to do, I can mentally push her to one side and robotically get on with the next tick item from my list.
Since I have given up alcohol too: the result of my January illness, none of my "vices" are allowed to flourish. Jill is a very dull girl. When you are trying to escape from the biggest of all "vices" (who you are) and alcohol is not available, where else do you turn? I have never even tried smoking or drugs. Given that I have an addictive personality, I'm not sure either is a good idea. So work it is. To quote Grease's Rizz, "there are worse things I could do." I guess its the way I'm wired. I have to be full on with something all the time.
The outside world is astonished at my increased productivity. My friends see the underbelly. The sinking into regular despair. The inability to reconcile my "new life" with the reality of the old. The desperation to be Rhiannon. The days that work doesn't win and a kind of depression lands bringing the futility of pointless resistance into sharp contrast. The jokey comments about nail polish or nice dresses that aren't really jokey.
Really, despite everything I might think, the success in leaving the girl behind and being a high work achiever is not really a success. There is never ever any escape. And more importantly, I don't want there to be. She needs to rise. The consequences for my marriage and family of allowing that to happen do constantly play on my conscience. But I know that the pull to be myself, to deny her no longer, is stronger. I know it's a matter of when not if. For now the fight, rightly, continues. I win battles, but never the war. Can you ever win a war that deep down you want to lose. Prolonging it for the sake of others is perverse, even if it is the right thing to do. But bit by bit, day by day, losing I am. And I've never been happier (or prouder) of being a complete loser. The woman who is winning is beautiful, kind, loving, fun - and most of all, she deserves her time in the sun.