I went and sat down in the HR manager’s office at the end of my shift just to talk before heading out for the day. We were talking and I brought up that I wanted to find a therapist because I felt that I had some issues to work through. She said I didn’t but I disagreed. That’s when she brought up my Facebook page, and asked if this was the issue I was needing to talk about.
The fact that someone else knew about this part of my identity would have sent me into a panic a few months ago, but the idea that I’m not a secret no longer terrifies me. The more people know, the freer I feel. It’s like I expected the world to end because people were finding out about my gender identity. What I’m discovering is that, at least within my small circle of friends and acquaintances, it’s really a non-issue. They accept it.
I still feel a need for therapy, partly because of my gender identity, but also for my feelings of repressed rage and self-loathing. I’ve become somewhat adept at keeping my anger at bay, but when I’m exhausted, as I was last week, all my angers, resentments, fears, and feelings of rejection, came bubbling up to the surface, damaging a friendship in the process. Maybe irrevocably.
A think a large part of my problem stems from keeping myself a secret for so long. It took a lot of energy to conceal my true identity that I didn’t have much to spare on socializing. I never learned how to date, not really, and making friends has always been a problem. I’ve always felt like an outsider, alone, rejected, unworthy of love and affection, that I latch on to any scrape of hope whenever there’s even the remotest glimpse of it, and I fall apart when it turns out to be an illusion. Worst still, I don’t recognize genuine affection when it slaps me in the face
It’s a lot to process, and accepting that I really need help has been hard for me. The macho, I-don’t-need-no-help part of my personality is still trying to keep a firm grasp on this secret that has become an open secret, and soon a widely known truth. I’m not strong enough to muscle my way through this, nor wise enough to deal with the process of coming out. I need guidance, first on a purely therapeutic level, then on a spiritual level.
I’m thinking about telling a priest friend of mine. We started college together, over twenty years ago. We both started out as music majors, and both served as musicians at the Catholic Student Center, I on the guitar, and he as a singer. I changed majors and eventually dropped out. He accepted the calling to serve the Lord, which I didn’t find at all surprising. He is a good man, and a good priest.
At some point, I recognize that my family will have to be told, but that’s still some time away. I still don’t know if I want to transition completely, or if I’ll be content to be a part-time woman, which is an odd thing to say. I hope you understand what I’m saying. I present myself as male because that’s what’s expected of me. It’s as natural as breathing. But I long for more. I wish to no longer put up pretenses. Maybe then, I’ll find someone to love, someone to love me, too.