We live with labels, even when we hate them. As Panti said in the previous post's video offering, it feels oppressive to feel you have to check yourself out because of concern over what others might think.
Life for this past five years has been a journey to a very new place for me. In every situation of everyday life, and family life, the way I am is not who I was. Not... at.. all.
Today, it is possible for me to calmly accept limitations that seem to be, and to be aware of an unlimited aspect that does not require outward expression. It is a freedom that is difficult to describe.
Do I self-label? Of course. I am human.
Am I ashamed of the way I self-identify? Not at all. In fact, I love who is inhabiting this body. That seems to be possible though because of that second aspect of myself that defies labeling.
On the first level, I am sometimes ashamed of the pretend-labels worn for the sake of others. They feel oppressive.
Have I been afraid of the real labels that are there to be discovered in time?
As Grandma used to say, Darned tootin'!
Why have I been afraid? Mostly because there is going to come a time, maybe soon, when Others Will Notice. Those pretend labels will dry up and fall off, leaving reality in its place for all to see. Life will have to change for a lot of people who I care about, for we all live with the consequences of labels.
We live in a fish bowl, where everything we do electronically is noticed in some way. I use technology extensively, and sooner or later information generated in this real part of my life will accidentally bleed over into that other pretend-side. This might have already happened for all I know.
In all ways but presentation I am transitioning, my body mass is redistributing itself much as you would expect a post-menopausal male's does, into a softer version of itself. For some reason, my breast tissue is increasing. If you think this bothers me, the answer is, not a bit. It has occurred to me lately that if the powers that be in the health care system would allow it, I'd have the surgery to confirm my gender as soon as possible, but continue to present as male for the sake of my dysphoric spouse.
Yes, you read that correctly. My spouse is dysphoric. She is heterosexual the way I am transsexual. To the bones; through and through and no amount of talk and arm twisting can change these things about us.
Something that is not pretense at all, is the love and the life we have shared and continue to share. It defines both of us in a way that is far stronger than sexual desires.
So, back to the labels we would wear.
It is said that sexuality is who you want to go to bed with, and gender identity is who you want to go to bed as.
By those definitions, I am bisexual and female.
What is not said, is that it is possible, in fact eventually necessary, to travel beyond that aspect of human existence.
There is more to being human, and that *more* involves allowing, yet ignoring labels. In that state, judgement is missing. Shame has no meaning. It eventually takes us all in and liberates us.
For some it is death, feared as non-existence.
For some it is re-birth and when conditions are just right, it simply happens.
It lies beyond fear.
Somehow, and it seems to be because of this new aspect that I am aware of, the idea of continuing to follow this path my ego has sent me on is no longer fearful.
I see the adventure.
I accept that life might get very "interesting" soon,