Coming Out

Some of my earliest memories are of wishing I was a girl. It wasn’t much later that I decided I was going to be a boy. And it was only a few weeks ago when it became very clear that was the wrong decision. I find myself thinking about how things might have been different had I persisted. There would have been challenges to be sure but in retrospect I think I would have overcome them. I certainly overcame different but no less substantial challenges.

Actually if I’m being honest with myself my life has been a string of spectacular failures. And so the rationalization begins. Do I focus on self pity or self aggrandizing. What will be most interesting? I’ve titled this post ‘Coming Out’ so I suppose I should talk about that. Although to do so I need to start with the self pity. After all the first person I had to come out to was myself.

Shortly before coming out I had a huge fight with my (now ex) girlfriend, who we will call Lady. I spent a day driving through the mountains, sifting through the detritus of my memories. From a young age I had devoted hours of thought to coming up with all (all) of the reasons why I was not a girl, and the reasons why those ever present feelings didn’t actually mean anything.

I had to talk myself out of all of that. I’m sitting at my desk in full femme, relaxed in a way I’d never known before. And still I second guess myself. I tried to imagine all of the things people will say, all the things they will think. Then I realized they think those things anyway, they just don’t know it’s me they’re thinking about. And why should I want to make them happy?

Lady was the first person I told. She told my mother over lunch one day. I’m glad she did so, it certainly made my job easier. The next person I spoke with was my sister in law, who is LGTB friendly and an incredible source of knowledge. Then I had an absolutely wonderful talk with my sister.

It’s strange, there’s always been a sort of distance between the two of us. Oh right that’s because my whole life up to that point was a lie. I spoke with complete honesty and freedom, I said exactly what was on my mind and she accepted it warmly. We drank coffee, and spoke with a degree of openness that would have terrified me only a month before. And she reminded me how incredibly blessed I am to call her sister.

I eventually had lunch with my mother, I was dressed in full femme and she took it in stride. She’s an amazing woman. Her feelings at this time are decidedly mixed (or for you word of the day types ‘ambivalent’). The important thing is that she loves me and is doing everything she can to help me through this. I love you mom.

I’ve only been out in public once, I had Lady on my arm (I can never thank you enough for that) and I was scared out of my mind the entire time. I drew some stares, a cashier gave me a strange look, but no one said anything. There’s no doubt that many people knew or at least suspected, and it didn’t matter at all. It’s 2015, the literal future in Back to the Future (yes I know, everyone is going to make that joke this year). Very few people care and those that do generally have the good sense to keep it to themselves.

Well ok there was one comment, though I wasn’t in full femme at the time. I’m slowly coming out to different people, I’ve told most of my immediate family and some of my closest friends. I still haven’t told my dad, nor any of my extended social groups. I have recently done my nails and didn’t feel like taking them off (they look lovely). Tonight a guy I know saw them and reacted with a bit of exasperation, he asked why I would destroy my fingers like that. I replied that it was a long story, and walked away. No one else around seemed affected in the slightest, each going about there business like nothing had happened, I’ll call that a win.

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