Monday, 30 March 2015

I wish was that brave...

So.  Tomorrow is the Transgender Day of Visibility and I've toyed long and hard as to whether to go through with becoming more visible.  I fear that it wouldn't end well, but I'm just sick of hiding.  So I prepared this for my male Facebook page:

And this to go alongside it: "This is probably not the wisest decision I have ever made, but I’m in my 40th year and the thought that another Day of Visibility goes by without me saying something just seems wrong.  Truth be told, however, I’m terrified of doing this.  Whilst some of you lovely people know already and have been fantastic, for some it will be surprise or a disappointment.  I guess I can’t control or help that.  For some, it will be a source of embarrassment and pain.  But I can’t stop being me.  You see, I’ve known about this my whole life.  Well, since I was 4.  I’ve been ashamed of who I am and hated and loathed myself for most of that time.  Much as I’ve fought this, I’ve never won.  So here you are.  Me.  Now you know and I hope with everything in me that you stay my friend, but if you don’t, I understand.  I want you to know that I don’t think any worse of you, whatever you think of me.  To the rest, thank you.  If you ever want to discuss it or to know more about who I am, you only have to ask.  Take care x"

If only I had the poor sense and judgement to push the button.  Just as I have on here...

Sunday, 29 March 2015

Cinderella…you shall go to the ball, just as you are

Of late, I’ve been fine.  Sorry that I’ve not been on here, but work has been busy, immersive, non-stop and intense.  I also have various out of work commitments - committees, trusteeships et al, that have been all encompassing.   Rhiannon days have come in fits and starts.  A month or so ago, I had three or four days in a row where I presented as I feel inside and it was lovely.  But really, it is too time draining for this time poor lass.

Work are very kind to me and let me dress when I want, but we work in a complex with other companies.  I don’t necessarily want to make it too obvious to the other people around that I’m trans as I’m not fully out to them all.  I’m a little bit in a weird limbo.  If I was going to go full time, it would be fine, but in this weird in-between stage, letting a load of people know about me who don’t know me would be weird.

When I do it, I tend to get to work early to make up and dress.  Just before the end of the afternoon, I undo it all and get ready to go home.  Mrs A still disapproves, so I just have to pretend.  When I have a dressed day, it is an hour out of my day that I need to use for working at the moment.  If I could get ready in the morning, before I get to work and then have it on all evening, it would be different, but that’s not how it works - I have instead to get dressed and ready twice.  During the day I’m distracted by it because I’m worried that people are going to traipse in the office - postmen, couriers, workmen etc.  And I just am not ready for everyone to know.  I find it hard to keep taking my armour on and off.

Essentially, I rhiannon when the pain and mental anguish of not being Rhiannon is so strong and palpable that I have no choice but to do it.  That happens fairly frequently.  But the rest of the time, if I can resist, I resist.  Its horrible knowing that I have this pain in my life and to be made to feel so sad for being me is just horrible.  My life consists of working, going home, working some more, eating, falling asleep, starting again the next day.  I’ve gone back into the mode of not thinking about it and avoiding it by replacing it with distractions.

Then there are days like yesterday.  I’ve blogged about it before, so you won’t be surprised.  But it was a special day.  My wife and mother were getting dressed up.  Just like Cinderella, I was helping them look great and feminine.  Touching up nail polish, advising on dresses, discussing make up options, making them feel great about combinations of clothing.  But I had to put on a suit and tie.  The thing that I am straight jacketed with every day at work.  Instead I just wanted to scream, weep, cry and run away.  But I can’t.  I just have to endure it.  Unlike Cinderella, no fairy godmother is coming for me.  No-one is going to wave a magic wand.

I thought about the Cinderella analogy a lot during the day.  Its interesting isn’t it.  The Fairy Godmother is the best that could have happened.  Imagine instead that Cinder’s family had inflicted a worse punishment.  Imagine instead that they said she could go, but that she was have to go in the rags that she wore in the kitchen cellar where they kept her.  How ugly and inappropriate for the ball she would have felt.  The prince probably would have looked twice at her, but only to wonder why someone bought her amongst the finery looking so wrong. That’s how I felt yesterday.  I was dressed completely wrong for the ball.

If I want to change it, I have to do it.  But I come back to the cost.  Lost home, family, wife, and on and on and on.  And I stop myself.