Sick as Fuck and Still Thinking

I didn't choose this ride, and I certainly can't choose to get off, unless of course I take the plunge over the railing, but that would be, well, stupid. But one of the remarkable things about the human condition is our ability to alter the ways in which we experience the ride. I can choose to hide my face in my hands and refuse to look at the world passing me by much faster than it seems it should, or I can choose to throw my hands in the air and scream to the heavens that this moment--the part of the ride just after the peak of the hill, just after the wheels have finished making that click-click-click, when the train is just about to fall back towards the earth--is perfect.
I'm sick as hell right now. I can barely sit up straight, and forget about seeing clearly. But as I have been writhing around all day in sweaty bedsheets and avoiding contact with the outside world, I really couldn't stand to keep doing it for several more hours. Apparently, my brain felt this even more strongly and decided to start pondering the details of transition in the middle of the night. It's really hard not having someone to talk to about this when the thoughts strike me. I'm worried and scared. And I don't know that I'm ever going to stop feeling that way, and I'm not sure that I'm supposed to anyway. I asked if calling me by my new name felt awkward, and she said no. It makes sense. Well, I know it makes sense. I mean, it's awkward for me sometimes because it is like any other change in life: You have to get used to it, even if it's something good and something you want. A part of me is a little afraid that I actually am getting used to it. It sort of feels like a leaving behind of a large part of myself. In abandoning my birth name, I feel like I am abandoning the person that I have been. I feel like I'm expected to just forget about everything that has ever happened to me and start all over without any connection to the identity I have worked so hard to embrace. Confused? Well, I guess I should point out that my identity is not defined solely by my name. The identity is the thing to which the name refers. I might have to develop that point further at some other time, preferably when I'm not dying. Oh yeah and forgive me if I sound a little loopy at times.
It's pretty apparent to people who have known me for a while that there are many different facets of my personality--that I really do seem like a different person in circumstances. I definitely have a more timid and self-conscious side that stands in opposition to a more confident and charismatic one. It took me a while to figure out that maybe the timid side is what people see as Elise. It's usually the first thing that people notice. But the other part of my personality begins to show through after some time. And then some assumptions have to be shattered. I've been living so long with these two sides of self and have never really found a way to merge them. And I suppose I'll always be afraid of losing something, but then again, you can only lose something if you stop paying attention to it, and it's pretty hard to stop paying attention to yourself, especially in the middle of something like this. In fact, I've been paying more attention to myself lately, and I think that's been very good for me. I have to remind myself not to get lost in myself, though, because I may miss out on things. Anyway, I believe this transition is helping me make sense of all the pieces of me. I'm realizing the diversity of my own gender expression and realizing that my day-to-day life doesn't have to change so dramatically. I feel like I'll be calmer. I won't have to judge myself against something I know that I am not. I think I started to get a little off topic. Anyway, while the name change scares me and I have been a tad hesitant about that entire thing, I feel like it's actually been a very good thing for me, and it's allowing me to feel like things align, even though it is still a little awkward at times. It's funny, I feel like it is way more awkward with some people than it is with others. Sometimes it is most awkward with people who know me pretty well and less awkward with people who are acquaintances of mine, but there are some exceptions on both sides of that, and I'm really curious as to why. And then there are people who, when they speak any name of mine, just give me the strangest vibe, make me so uncomfortable in my own skin that I kind of want to run the hell away. But I always stay, at least physically. And maybe that's the problem with that situation because other people may not realize when I just mentally retreat into my own world. Definitely not what I want to be talking about right now. Wow my head is messed up now, though I am interested in what might come next if I keep going with this.
I don't line up with male or female all the time, and I suppose that I don't line up with either appellation all the time either. I'm trying to think of a good metaphor here, but since my brain has turned to pea soup, I'll have to steal one. Think of a color wheel. Hell, just pick one color gradient, let's say from the darkest red to pure white. Maybe not all of the colors in between red and white have names, and you don't really know how to distinguish them, especially the ones that lie pretty close together. In undergoing this transition, it's like I'm moving from one shade of red to another, a little closer to one end of the spectrum but not necessarily all the way. And maybe there isn't a name for that either. But at some point, you have to start calling the colors red instead of white or pink or orange-ish or whatever. So I guess that's a good way to sum up what's happening to me. I'm moving more towards that male end of the spectrum, and I'll be crossing that line that makes it easier just to say red (male) than try to come up with something that still makes sense to the whole world. When it comes down to it, I could care less if you call me male, female, or a toaster, because I could be any one of those things at any given time, and so can we all, if you think about it. But to stray away from that technical bullshit, I've never really had a mental picture of myself as woman/female. It's just never been the way I've thought of myself. It's not like any of that was active or anything. I just assumed that someday I would start to feel like a woman like everyone else and that things would be okay. But that never happened. And I always felt like there was some big secret that was being kept from me. It's kind of ridiculous how much this makes sense for me, but that doesn't mean that I'm not terrified. It's something that's unknown. That's always scary.
I feel like I might start to repeat myself soon. Oh well. That's probably going to happen a lot in the next few months. I keep wondering if a lot of these fears are coming from failing to meet the expectations of others. There is so much that people expect of me or have planned for me or that people think that I want out of life. And maybe I've wanted some of those things as well. I sort of felt the same way about coming out the first time. I felt that those typical American dreams of the future just disintegrated. It sort of killed me at the time, and there are times when I think about what I may be missing out on and get a little depressed. But when I really start thinking, I'm so happy that this is where I am with my sexuality because now I feel like the rest of the world is missing out on what I have experienced and what I have to offer.
And even though I'm thinking about this all the time now and am worrying like crazy all the time, I know that I don't want my entire life to be about my transition. However, I know that I'm the kind of person who will forever be in that state. I will never be fully male or female, masculine or feminine. I'm transgender. And I'm okay with that. I'd rather be that than be stuck with a label that doesn't always fit. But I'm going to choose the side I feel closer to, and I know somewhere inside that it's going to bring me peace. Anyway, to get back to my point, at some point I'm going to want to stop thinking about it and just be a fucking human being and live my life and have fun like I've always done. I don't see why there isn't any reason that that couldn't happen. I guess it's like getting a dramatic haircut/losing a lot of weight. For a while, it's all that people notice and talk about, but after some time, it just becomes another part of you.
There's so much to think about, and I am getting a little dizzy, but that's most likely from the pigs in my bloodstream.
I keep trying to figure out the first words I should say to my parents, the first words I need to write to my brother. I want to come up with a plan, and depending on how it goes when I do tell my family, I may need an escape plan. This needs to happen soon. It can only get more complicated the longer I wait, and that goes for every situation. This kind of thing won't be any easier when I'm in med school or out in the real world. In fact, this might be the easiest time of all. Above all, I have to keep reminding myself that things are going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.
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It takes courage to push yourself to places that you have never been before... to test your limits... to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom
Anais Nin