I have been pretty much documenting my entire coming-out process. I have told you about my family and friends and how though most are supportive I have a few who have remained silent afterwards. My entire life, I have composed myself as aloof because that is the best way to avoid being hurt by rejection. I really, really want people to like me, but I want them to like me on my terms. I don’t want to put myself out there and then be rejected, so if they like me while I am aloof, I can’t really lose. That is the theory anyway.
The problem with doing this my whole life is that I have built up rejection as some monolithic thing that encompasses my thoughts. If I do this, will it upset this person, if I do that, will that person now not like me. It is so much a part of me that posting my opinions on twitter and Facebook leave me in mental anguish until I see someone agree with me. I have gotten a bit better, putting myself on twitter and making myself post. My need to be right overcomes my need to be liked in most cases now. But that isn’t the best way of doing things either. My sense of right and wrong can be very black and white, and I have trouble seeing other points of view.
All of this leads up to my point of this post. I told the last person in my private life, that I will tell, who I am. I told Scott, our middle brother (I am the oldest sister, then there is Scott, then Paul) who I am. I told him in an email. I did so because when I told Paul I got flustered and I didn’t explain it correctly and I wasn’t prepared for the questions and it was just not well organized. I wanted to explain in email because he deserves to know my thoughts without me rambling about other things to stall.
So, in the spirit of transparency, here is the letter to my brother Scott:
You and I have always had a distance between us. I have never done the right thing to close that gap. I do know that you love me and you always wanted to be closer when we were younger. But I never felt cool enough to hold your interest and I was never tough enough to be interesting. It’s my fault for this, I am sorry that I haven’t been the older brother you deserved.
I don’t know if you have talked to Paul. I have waited to tell you because, frankly, you are so much like Dad and well Dad never really like me much. I know he loved me, he just didn’t like me. So, I kind of applied that to you as well, which I admit isn’t fair to you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and this is one of them I’m sure.
I want to tell you this before you read the rest of this email. I love you and that won’t change if you decide you can’t deal with or don’t want to talk to me again. This seems like I am hyping up what I am about to tell you, but I’m really stalling even in this email.
I am transgender, a woman. I knew when I was little before Paul was even born, I just didn’t know what it was called or how to define it. And as I grew up I still didn’t know the full extent, I thought for a short time that I might be a transvestite, but they aren’t women, they just enjoy wearing women’s clothes. My brain is constantly telling me that I am female and my body just isn’t complying. Considering this, things from our childhood which might have seemed odd now make sense. I did a lot of things in my life trying to deny, trying to bury what I am. None of them worked and only made me less able to live with myself.
I didn’t tell Mom, I wanted to but I always felt there was time. Then she got cancer and I didn’t want to put a burden on her of worrying over me. I don’t know if Mom would have accepted me, I know she would have hated losing a son. The only choice I have here is telling people or not telling them, I don’t have a choice about what I am.
I am out at home, I am out to all my friends. Michelle and the kids fully support me and we are good. I have told Paul and I just told our cousins. So, Paul asked this and I suppose it’s a valid question. “What does this mean?” Not a lot really, I’m not a different person. I’m still just me, but with a better wardrobe. I plan on getting laser hair removal (all these years and NOW I am getting hair on my face). I am planning on going on HRT (hormones). Surgeries are something I am contemplating and would have loved to have done if I were younger, but now it’s an expense and Rose is just starting High School, so expenses are just starting, lol.
I’m writing this message because I didn’t want to edit myself on what I would say out loud, or feeling self-conscious would neglect to say. You were told last because I care what you think about me more than most.
I purposely didn’t redact anything from you, the readers. I’m done. This was the last person I needed to tell. Well, Scott was the last person I could tell. My father and mother, I would love to have them alive and well so I could tell them. Even if they were upset, they would be alive and there being upset at me for not just being a normal kid. That would be so great right now.
I must tell work, but I have no emotional investment in my workplace proximity associates. Telling work is about trying to either keep my job or finding a better place to work in which I can keep earning a living and still be who I am. By the way, what the hell, society? In what way is who I am a barometer for my abilities?
I have not heard from Scott, but I only sent it yesterday afternoon. After which I thought I was going to be sick. I sent two very supportive friends FB messenger messages. (there must be a better way to say that) They were right there, helping me the entire time I was having a mini-heart attack. Joe and Avril, you are both such wonderful people. Never doubt that I love you dearly and will always be there when you need me too.