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.

3 comments:

  1. There isn't a magic wand, but that's not to say you don't have the power to make the changes you need to.

    Yes, there's a cost and yet, I read what you've put, listen to the way you've explained things and I wonder: will you get to retirement, or beyond, and look back in regret?

    I know it's not easy and I'd be the first to say that transitioning isn't for everyone. Each person has to decide on their own, not by blog vote, or echo chamber affirmation.

    The other month, another of our Chams group posted a reply about decided not to be full time. That she felt more at home part time, rather than be in her 80s, being tucked into her nightie by the care staff of the home, on her own. Maybe she'd be alone, maybe she wouldn't. I don't know her life and it would be rude to pry.

    I hope you find something that works for you.
    L x

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    1. Thank you Lynn. As usual, wise words that chime and resonate with me. I think you are right - increasingly I realise that he choice is mine. Much as I prevaricate based on the fear of where I will spend my future - and a strong suspicion that it would be alone. But knowing that being male for the rest of my life feels me with a horror that is tough to describe. I'm almost ashamed to admit that actually I do neither. My head is firmly in the sand which is horrible but convenient for now. Displacement is working temporarily, so I continue to see how that works... x

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  2. I have no illuminating words to respond with. It is nice to see you updating here again, sometimes a vent is necessary all the more *because* of the busy-ness of life and the way things are, but it is sad that the venting is needed rather than crowing over minor triumphs.

    Best wishes,

    Joanna

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