Being Okay

I came home seven months ago against my will, without knowing anyone here other than my parents. I suppose you could count the people I used to know in high school, but I'm sure none of them really exist anymore either. I even got to know a few of them all over again. In so many ways, this part of my life is the low-budget sequel to my high school experience. I make just about the same amount of money, spend a lot of time wondering about the future all by myself, and I live in the same room. Best Buy is like a giant high school (many, many of them actually went to my actual high school) as well, complete with relationship drama, cliques, and house parties. And because of those house parties, I actually have friends I trust enough to randomly text or maybe even call (gasp) whenever I need something.

I find it interesting that I make friends with military guys so easily. I'm sure that says something about my personality, perhaps about my general lack of concern for holding my tongue when it would otherwise be appropriate. Also pretty sure the obsession with physical fitness has something to do with it. But it's not just that I can chat with them or find common ground. There really is some sort of deeper connection I can't quite figure out, like they would be the kind of friend that I try to be, because when it comes to putting your ass on the line for your fellow man, they've pretty much done that for a living.

I read something that made me angry the other day, but it made me happy as well. And regardless of which emotion I ended up feeling throughout the night, I cried. I wanted to be angry at her, but I was really angry with myself for being so hurt by something that has nothing to do with me. That might actually be why it hurts. I am not ashamed to admit that I am envious of your life. But I am not upset. I am happy, and I am thankful that you understand how unique your position is and how many lives you have the ability to affect from it. And I hope those lives are affected in positive ways, and instead of harboring this negative energy and having it seep out into the real world, I have no choice but to let it go. I'm on my way to being happy. And you are already happy. And we had nothing to do with each other's happiness. And I am learning to be okay with that. I'm learning not to be sad. It's hard to forget about the moments of the two of us that I can still see in full color--about how you were part of what changed the course of my entire life. But I understand that I do not have to, and the beauty of my life is that I don't have to play by the rule that says I need to be the jealous ex-boyfriend. I can just be an old friend. And maybe a new one, one of these days, if our paths ever cross again. Awkwardness is just going to be part of this whole experience, but we don't have to try to force it out of the way. Let the awkwardness come and go as it pleases, and it'll probably depart sooner rather than later.

I was so worried about never finding another soul that fit quite as nicely as yours, but then I did, in the most unexpected of places. And now I feel the same way about him. I can only assume that the same thing may very well happen again. But I am still young, and patience is a thing that is relegated to certain scattered aspects of my life. The pressure is on to settle down and start having babies, as every day I see new notifications about who is engaged, married, or pregnant. I see their wedding pictures. They're looking into each other's eyes like the world could be burning down around them and they wouldn't care. The power of the camera to capture the aura of two souls wrapped around each other--two spirits blending together and radiating love--is something I have always respected. Their pictures more than anything make me feel exactly what it is that I do not have in my life. And then the pain becomes very real.

I do wonder if I will ever feel such an intense love again. I wonder if I will ever be able to look into another person's eyes and truly believe that I'll be doing the exact same thing thirty or forty or fifty years down the road. I wonder if someone will ever see past the broken parts of me or maybe even love them just as much. I wonder if the person I may find will be able to take me at my worst, which is something that no one else has been able to do. And I wonder if it will be my fault if they can't.

I'm scared of losing things. I'm very scared about life right now because I may be at a point of no return, if such a thing exists. I'm still scared of making the wrong choice, even though I know that there isn't one. I may have made the wrong choice a few years ago when I decided to pass on medical school, but it was something that I had to do, and the only reason I would even argue that it could have been wrong is based on information I obtained after the fact. I was going to say something about having learned some very important things in the past two years, but that is actually just as meaningless. I am here now. It is so easy to forget that this is my present experience. That it matters too. That I need to make it matter by continuing to do things that matter. I may not be where I want to be, but I do have at least some ability to make this more like the place in my life I DO want to be.

Where am I? I am in my old bedroom, but it is not the same. I changed it shortly after moving back home. I repainted the walls, removed the old posters, eliminated boxes and boxes of useless junk and filed the rest of it away under "memories". It looks very modern, organized. Everything matches in here, as opposed to the chaotic assortment of patterns and colors I amassed between moving into this room for the first time and moving away for college. I still do not feel like there is enough of me in this room to make it more than a comfortably decorated room in which I am staying. I'm a guest in many ways. I'm trying to make this place feel like it belongs to me, but it does not. I am in my parent's house, not mine. Nothing can change this back to what it used to be. And I'm not just talking about the room.

My favorite holiday was his favorite holiday too. I watched him get excited about decorating the house and scaring away little children. It looked spectacular, and I remember getting off work and trudging through the cold and the light misty rain after getting off the bus just to make it back in time to see the last of the trick-or-treaters heading home. I remember playing with the puppy in the yard and watching her grow enough to be able to climb the stairs without being terrified. When I went back to get my things last month, she was even bigger and now more fearless. And when he hugged me goodbye, I didn't want to let go. I never want to let go, and that's my problem. I could keep going further and further back into the past, getting caught in memories of getting caught in moments with people who aren't just blips on the radar. I'm so scared that I have lost the ability to feel the extremes of felicity, perhaps because of my frequent mental excursions into the past.

It may not seem like I'm ready to deal with my life yet, but I feel that I am getting closer. And it all started by taking the risk of going over someone's house a few weeks ago. I get more confident each time, yet I am still fearful of making mistakes. I am probably going to be okay. I might even be more than okay, but right now, I've got a space heater, a brand new computer, fifteen pounds of muscle I didn't have 6 months ago, and football drinking buddies. I'd say that constitutes a little bit more than being okay.

Thought

I might actually have friends, and that is scary. Having friends makes it that much harder to leave. I know from experience.

The T in LGBT

Why is the T in LGBT when it has nothing to do with our sexuality? I've seen this question arise in a number of support groups for trans people, and I really think we need to look at this from a different perspective. We don't need LGB people to help us or fight for our rights. We need to fight for theirs. Allow me to explain, briefly.

Trans people live in contrast with the binary model of gender/sex that exists in our society, and what we are fighting for is the recognition of our gender identities as valid and the right to express our identities in whatever way we choose. And that is not a right that we alone deserve. All people deserve this right, and I believe it would greatly benefit the people in our society to not have to conform or face social isolation, among other things.

Much of the violence perpetrated against LGB (and T) people, from the time of childhood, is based upon behaviors, mannerisms, preferences, etc. that heteronormative people associate with the "opposite" gender. There is the pervading belief that real manhood and real womanhood are observable and quantifiable, and that one is less of a man or woman if certain criteria are not met. This greatly affects LGB people because society characterizes people who don't have a certain number of manly or womanly traits as gay without hesitation. Well, not all gay men are effeminate, and not all straight men are macho. I'm not even arguing for the idea that many trans people first find acceptance as members of the gay community. Aside from this, we are fighting for the same rights. As a transman, I am fighting for acceptance as a real man just as much as a so-called effeminate gay man. I'm not in the we're-just-like-the-rest-of-you-straight-people camp. No. We are different. We don't have to pretend to be straight or act in heteronormative ways or have body parts that are heteronormatively associated with the gender with which we identify in order to be considered real and granted the real rights we deserve.

And since sexuality, sex and gender are so linked in our society, homosexual behavior is considered a transgression of gender norms as well. We're all breaking the same rules. And we are fighting for LGB people, trans people, and straight people, and everyone else to be able to express their sex, gender, and sexuality in whichever ways they choose. Do you know how many times people have commented to me that certain people just "act too gay" for them? We're fighting against that mindset. People seem not to have an issue with gay people as long as it can be ignored or hidden, but when the gender transgressions occur, it cannot be ignored. Many young boys learn to fear and hate gays because, as they grow up, they are fighting to attain manhood/masculinity, which is incompatible with any sort of feminine behavior or transgression, which homosexuality is again a part of. In fighting for our rights to express our own gender identity, we are fighting for gender justice for all, to quote the IDKE slogan from 2010.

Now I think I will go post this in response. I never do that, but I think this might be one of those important times where people might actually get it.

Winter, Interviews...Winterviews?

One of the reasons I dislike winter so much is that it becomes much more difficult for me to walk to places of necessity. I feel even more trapped than usual, and while I love hockey and playing in the snow, I tend to hate cold weather because I'm apparently extraordinarily sensitive to it. Winter's coming soon, and that means all of the above and most likely, worsening depression.

I was asked if I had achieved any recent goals of mine in my interview today. I couldn't even make something up. I said no. And I am still struggling to find an answer. This also leads me to another point. Interview questions tend to stack the cards against people who are depressed or atypical. Thinking of an answer to that particular question would probably have been easier if my brain were primed to see the positive in things, but I'm constantly fighting to avoid negativity (and often failing). Regardless of whether I had achieved a goal or not, which actually would be indicative of success, the question is more telling about my perception of my success, which in most capitalistic contexts is irrelevant. Also, if you've ever taken one of those silly assessments that asks about what you would rather do or how likely you are to feel a certain way, you've probably encountered questions that seemed like they had no right answer. Sometimes, I want to pick strongly agree, and sometimes I want to pick strongly disagree for the same question. It depends on the day. Asking about whether I prefer to work with people or figures? Is that really a fair question? The only thing I could do was be honest and explain that it is not a matter of preference but a matter of comfort, though I most enjoy a context in which both opportunities are present to some degree. But many times I don't have the option of explaining myself. I think some people believe that because I need to work harder at these things, I'll be worse at them than someone who is naturally bubbly and extroverted. I would argue that my awareness of the situation gives me a more realistic perception and that I may sometimes surpass an individual that remains blissfully ignorant. But then there are times that I will not, and are those few instances what my entire life will be based upon? Again, I keep wondering how fair this is.

I was proud of myself for not completing falling apart after not doing so well at answering the first question. It was one of those questions that is probably meant to break the ice for most people, but it terrified me because I had no idea how to answer it. It was just too vague. I was faced with either saying nothing or perhaps going on for way too long. So I stumbled through an answer that didn't make much sense, now that I think about it. What was this prompt? "So, tell me about yourself."

I'm bothered by that question because no matter what answer you give, you're still giving an incomplete picture, unless your answer happens to be a novel.

(Distracted by the little gray dots on the whiteboard in my room.)

Insight

I've recently decided that I might want to move back to Pittsburgh. I now know why. I spent a weekend with the right people and kept my attention focused on that, instead of worrying about how miserable I might be on the off chance the wrong people confronted me. Despite a few unhappy looking glances in my direction, they seemed to be relatively easy to ignore, almost like they weren't even there. I've already lost my home to ignorant fucks on more than one occasion, and I don't intend to make a habit of it. Perhaps I am so drawn back to the city, not only because it is home but because I also have a lot of unfinished business to tackle. If I am going to leave somewhere, I want to be the one to decide that. The way things went down, I feel as if something has been taken from me, and I don't think I'll be able to live with the feeling of letting go so easily--of abandoning something I wanted so much and was so close to achieving. I wanted to establish my home out there for a reason, and that reason has not changed, and many of the people that helped me make that decision are still out there. I feel bad for not making them a bigger part of my life when it turns out I could have used them a great deal. I think going back would be very different this time around because I know which people are worth the time.

My brain definitely has a funny way of doing things.

Progress

I finally figured out how to write the introduction to my book. And I'm feeling pretty impressed with myself because of my opening analogy. I feel like the hardest part is behind me. Hooray for progress!

Newsflash

I am an awkward hugger. Hugging most people makes me uncomfortable. How I know that I really love someone--I can feel it in the hug. Those are the ones I wish would never end. It's so rare that I can find someone with whom I can share that much. If you can make me feel that comfortable, chances are you've got a shot. But good luck because the list is pretty short.
On Sunday, I just didn't want to let go. I wasn't sure until that very moment. But now I know that I really did and really do love him, in spite of everything. And once again, it's too late.
It never gets any easier to deal with this kind of pain.