Recently, I wrote a post entitled “Selfish” here in Cyrsti’s Condo. Under the new shelter in place rules here in Ohio, I have been stuck at home seemingly forever. In fact, the only big exciting trip out I have recently is a trip last night to the grocery store. Fortunately, most all of the had stock on them (except for the toilet paper) So we couldn’t be selfish and buy our two package minimum.
As you may or may not remember, the “Selfish” post wasn’t about toilet paper and hopefully wasn’t that bad of a post :). Selfish was a post concerning gender transitioning and it’s effects on those around you. In a short amount of words, is it a selfish pursuit to change your gender back to it’s true self. Regardless of what many people think, we transgender women and men aren’t really “changing” anything. We are simply beginning to live our reality.
Connie had this look at the post:
“It was more selfish of me when I was trying to compartmentalize my life – living a double life, really. Because I could not be “myself” with family and friends, I had gotten to the point where I was just carving out some time for them, rather than being there for them always. A therapist that my wife and I were seeing together made the suggestion that I ramp up the compartmentalization by scheduling my feminine-self. He used the analogy of an avid golfer, who compromises by agreeing to only play on Sundays, so that everyone agrees that nothing else should be expected on one day of the week. The trouble, though, was that I awoke every morning feeling every bit the woman I am, and, while golf is an activity, this was the very essence of who I was – every day. The suggestion was made from the therapist’s ignorance of gender identity and dysphoria, and it would never have worked. However, it did provide the opportunity for me to explain why it would never work, and that’s really when my transition began.
As I’ve often said, a gender transition starts with one being honest with self. As hard as that may be to do, the follow-up is to then to be honest with everyone else. In my case, my wife did not accept my cross dressing, but she has been so wonderful in how she has transitioned along with me. It’s a different relationship, of course, but it is completely open and honest. Even if she had not wanted to deal with all of the drama of it, I know she would have still supported me. I postponed HRT for her sake, as she wasn’t ready to accept breasts on me, but, when she had transitioned to the point of acceptance a couple of years later, I was hit with my first blood clot. After the second clot, I had to resign myself to the fact that HRT would never be part of my transition.
With the recent passing of Kenny Rogers, I can’t help but to hear “The Gambler” in my head. Ha! “You gotta know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em.” It’s interesting to think of that song from a trans view; transitioning is somewhat of a gamble, really. Fortunately, there is “time enough for countin’ when the dealing’s done.”
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