My friend Sarah from Britain and I write back and forth keeping each other up to date on family and how we are doing. Sarah is the author of the only guest post on this blog and a very popular one it is too. Her poem there, My Imaginary Friend is a beautiful autobiographical piece, written in the first person.
Sarah and I have often said we will write an instruction manual someday on living male in spite of our handicap. We may be getting closer. In a recent letter she commented that she felt certain my tone in our letters had become more masculine in recent weeks. She even demonstrated it using one of those gender genie programs that analyze writing style.
Yesterday you met the crusader in me. Today we have a gentler, more homogenized personality at the steering wheel, with righteous anger somewhat but not totally abated.
History is a hobby and passion for me. Anger made me think about how in our enlightened age there are still barbarians at the gate, and that thought made me .... well, you can read for yourself where all that anger and worry took me.
I've been anxious for a very long time about a number of indicators of the economic health of the world. These are very difficult times for so many, and especially but not just our young. These times remind me of times in the past that were breeding ground for ... let's just say, I see parallels and that makes me fearful.
I felt fearful, and powerless too. My only weapon at hand was this blog. I am very sorry to have used this mostly peaceful place as a hammer.
Yet, for me it is good news that I didn't filter. If felt right at the time, even if today it does seem over the top.
I resisted an impulse I felt last night to delete the post.
This is me, today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Complex.
Two spirits getting closer to being able to speak as one it seems.
Sarah, I will save you time. Gender guesser says this post was written by a male.
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Monday, 19 August 2013
As Real As We Can Be
Munching on that delicious cookie, I found myself on a dirt path that meandered into a forest. Aadi had said something that was puzzling and personally troubling.
"Invisible people don't exist".
My first thought had to do with my own life, and who I am. Halle is invisible to those who know the guy. They see the maleness first and don't stop to think about how I act and haven't a clue how I feel, so for them, Halle doesn't exist. Yet, for me in spite of outer presentation, Halle is now who I am, as contradictory as that seems.
Ahead was an opening in the forest, the path carrying on to a teeing area, and standing there, who else but Beth, my twin sister from a life that never happened, well not to me at least.
"You're late for our tee time, but luckily the golf course isn't busy." Picking a tee and ball out of my pull-cart I joined her and looked out on a lush scene of green and blue and white she had created for us. "You have the honour." she indicated the tee had landed pointing toward me.
I took a hurried, but effective cut at the ball, hardly watching its flight as I turned to ask her what was on my mind; "Beth, you're real aren't you? I mean, when we part company, you wake up and you really exist, right?"
"Halle, when you wake up, you exist don't you? How can you be so unique and detailed in my dreams otherwise? Come on dream friend and sibling! We are wasting precious golfing time here!" She laughed at me as she teed her ball up and went into her routine, lining up then taking a beautifully balanced swing, sending the ball out then up over the middle of lush green fairway to join mine safely between those blue and white patches of water and sand. Watching her, I resolved to try to swing more like she does; so calm and easy as opposed to my effort-filled method, a constant reminder that I still cling to some parts of the male façade.
"Well," I said as we walked together pushing our carts, "if I didn't know better, I could be just a creation of your imagination, someone you created so you can beat me on these dream golf dates!"
"Halle, I don't need you in my dreams for that, besides, you win your fair share of times here. But I've often thought it would be so much fun for us to be in the real world at the same time and be able to meet each others' kids and so on."
"There are rules against that, sadly." Beth agreed and then suddenly looked serious, and very pensive, a look others probably see in me quite often I mused. "What is it Beth?" We sat down together on a bench that had conveniently materialized. She looked into my eyes and grabbed a hand and squeezed.
"Halle, you are really serious about this 'really existing' thing. I worry about you carrying the heart and desires of a woman around in that man's body, yet remaining determined to keep status quo for the sake of your family. I get that, but there must be more, because you have shared enough for me to know how this gnaws at you!"
There was no hesitation in my reply. "I am no martyr Beth, but my time spent reading blogs and emails has shown me many sides of transition. First, I've lived all my life dealing with this, and through my contacts on the internet, and the help of my therapist Dr. T, I understand so much more about why I feel the way I do. It is so much better than before when I hated myself and had frequent thoughts of suicide." She looked slightly horrified for I had never mentioned suicide before. "I am convinced nobody who can handle being trans any other way should transition. Second, I'm sure you can guess transition isn't a simple matter of 'now I am a woman and life goes on', and I'm not just referring to loss of family and friends and male privilege. There is so much to learn when you haven't grown up into womanhood. Because unlike a genetic woman, you cannot become who you must be gradually through childhood surrounded by girlfriends finding your own style and personality, it becomes another façade to create and maintain. Even more than that, no matter how young you are, you can never fully forget that you started life as a male. Even women who transitioned as early as their late teens or early twenties have to face that truth from time to time. There are people in our society who mindlessly fear and hate us if they find out the truth. Imagine how devastating it would be to have lived most of your life as a female, and friends and family you have loved suddenly become aware of your 'history' and can't handle it. That happens Beth! My respect for those who transition is boundless and I pray in my own way for them to be able to have peace in their lives."
"But Halle, haven't you ever thought about how when you die, there will be nobody to tell this positive side of your life, who you really are inside?"
"Beth, have you been reading my emails!" I chuckled at that idea, but thought how right she and others were about the ultimate effect of hiding myself away forever. Disturbing feelings of turmoil overwhelmed me and I woke with a start.
Perhaps that is a truth for many of us here in Blogistan, "invisible" friends and family of a different sort too, yet more effective than many who we see every day.
As a bonus, we can and sometimes, when the stars align just so, we do meet!
A tantalizing thought I intend to pursue.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
(Hamlet, Act I, scene v)
"Invisible people don't exist".
My first thought had to do with my own life, and who I am. Halle is invisible to those who know the guy. They see the maleness first and don't stop to think about how I act and haven't a clue how I feel, so for them, Halle doesn't exist. Yet, for me in spite of outer presentation, Halle is now who I am, as contradictory as that seems.
Ahead was an opening in the forest, the path carrying on to a teeing area, and standing there, who else but Beth, my twin sister from a life that never happened, well not to me at least.
"You're late for our tee time, but luckily the golf course isn't busy." Picking a tee and ball out of my pull-cart I joined her and looked out on a lush scene of green and blue and white she had created for us. "You have the honour." she indicated the tee had landed pointing toward me.
I took a hurried, but effective cut at the ball, hardly watching its flight as I turned to ask her what was on my mind; "Beth, you're real aren't you? I mean, when we part company, you wake up and you really exist, right?"
"Halle, when you wake up, you exist don't you? How can you be so unique and detailed in my dreams otherwise? Come on dream friend and sibling! We are wasting precious golfing time here!" She laughed at me as she teed her ball up and went into her routine, lining up then taking a beautifully balanced swing, sending the ball out then up over the middle of lush green fairway to join mine safely between those blue and white patches of water and sand. Watching her, I resolved to try to swing more like she does; so calm and easy as opposed to my effort-filled method, a constant reminder that I still cling to some parts of the male façade.
"Well," I said as we walked together pushing our carts, "if I didn't know better, I could be just a creation of your imagination, someone you created so you can beat me on these dream golf dates!"
"Halle, I don't need you in my dreams for that, besides, you win your fair share of times here. But I've often thought it would be so much fun for us to be in the real world at the same time and be able to meet each others' kids and so on."
"There are rules against that, sadly." Beth agreed and then suddenly looked serious, and very pensive, a look others probably see in me quite often I mused. "What is it Beth?" We sat down together on a bench that had conveniently materialized. She looked into my eyes and grabbed a hand and squeezed.
"Halle, you are really serious about this 'really existing' thing. I worry about you carrying the heart and desires of a woman around in that man's body, yet remaining determined to keep status quo for the sake of your family. I get that, but there must be more, because you have shared enough for me to know how this gnaws at you!"
There was no hesitation in my reply. "I am no martyr Beth, but my time spent reading blogs and emails has shown me many sides of transition. First, I've lived all my life dealing with this, and through my contacts on the internet, and the help of my therapist Dr. T, I understand so much more about why I feel the way I do. It is so much better than before when I hated myself and had frequent thoughts of suicide." She looked slightly horrified for I had never mentioned suicide before. "I am convinced nobody who can handle being trans any other way should transition. Second, I'm sure you can guess transition isn't a simple matter of 'now I am a woman and life goes on', and I'm not just referring to loss of family and friends and male privilege. There is so much to learn when you haven't grown up into womanhood. Because unlike a genetic woman, you cannot become who you must be gradually through childhood surrounded by girlfriends finding your own style and personality, it becomes another façade to create and maintain. Even more than that, no matter how young you are, you can never fully forget that you started life as a male. Even women who transitioned as early as their late teens or early twenties have to face that truth from time to time. There are people in our society who mindlessly fear and hate us if they find out the truth. Imagine how devastating it would be to have lived most of your life as a female, and friends and family you have loved suddenly become aware of your 'history' and can't handle it. That happens Beth! My respect for those who transition is boundless and I pray in my own way for them to be able to have peace in their lives."
"But Halle, haven't you ever thought about how when you die, there will be nobody to tell this positive side of your life, who you really are inside?"
"Beth, have you been reading my emails!" I chuckled at that idea, but thought how right she and others were about the ultimate effect of hiding myself away forever. Disturbing feelings of turmoil overwhelmed me and I woke with a start.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Crazy to imagine that someone in a dream can be real I suppose, yet knowing her, having our exchanges in dreamtime has made my life richer. For an invisible person, she seems to be doing a good job of existing.Perhaps that is a truth for many of us here in Blogistan, "invisible" friends and family of a different sort too, yet more effective than many who we see every day.
As a bonus, we can and sometimes, when the stars align just so, we do meet!
A tantalizing thought I intend to pursue.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
(Hamlet, Act I, scene v)
Monday, 8 July 2013
As Long As You Both Shall Live
With no ceremony.
No engagement.
Married to one another for a lifetime
With only a few the wiser.
Hidden inside,
Unseen
Unheard for so long,
I make everything happen.
While out front is this hollow man
Going through the motions.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Being the one is like being in love.
No one can tell you you're in love,
you just know it.
Through and through.
Balls to bones."
The Matrix
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When you are inclined to listen carefully to others, but to ultimately find answers for yourself and take full responsibility for the results of your actions, the idea that you are connected to some source or higher self is tantalizing.
Not really someone else, but instead, you at another level ~ Wiser, with a perspective you lack or choose to ignore maybe?
Like walking into a scene in a movie, there was Aadi, who had shown me how all of my lives were connected like an amazing tree stretching infinitely through our lifetimes.
I knew it was her, but this time she looked like a school teacher, looking over the top of reading glasses of all things.
"Hello Halle. Thank you for coming in to see me.
I have been watching you lately, and as much as I hate to give bad news to a good person, I am afraid there is something you need to hear."
Moving behind an old wooden teachers' desk, she looked over to me and slowly shook her head side to side.
"You've been fooling yourself into believing this 'real person behind the male trappings' thing you are doing will work for the rest of your life.
Now, don't get me wrong, it has been and will be fine for you some of the time. Enough so you have honestly believed you could make this 'two people in one body' thing work."
She shook her head sadly and picked up a cookie tin that had magically appeared on the desk.
"No one can promise you happiness in any of your lives, but,... " She walked around the desk and put her hand softly on my face,
"You will only be yourself when you separate from the guy, move out and find your own place."
Nodding at me, she asked
"You know what I am telling you, don't you?"
I looked down at the floor, and nodded in agreement, then looked up to her and said "you are talking about the way I feel alone in a room full of people and have more acquaintances than friends and most of them online."
"Bingo!
Oh, you can still be a good person, a nice person, reliable and so on...
What you can't be to those around you is the authentic person that you've discovered in this past three years of searching."
Hand on my shoulder, she seemed to be guiding me to the door of the classroom.
"I say this with all the love in my heart my dear, sweet child:
Invisible people don't exist."
Removing the lid from the tin she extended it toward me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
No engagement.
Married to one another for a lifetime
With only a few the wiser.
Hidden inside,
Unseen
Unheard for so long,
I make everything happen.
While out front is this hollow man
Going through the motions.
"Being the one is like being in love.
No one can tell you you're in love,
you just know it.
Through and through.
Balls to bones."
The Matrix
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When you are inclined to listen carefully to others, but to ultimately find answers for yourself and take full responsibility for the results of your actions, the idea that you are connected to some source or higher self is tantalizing.
Not really someone else, but instead, you at another level ~ Wiser, with a perspective you lack or choose to ignore maybe?
Like walking into a scene in a movie, there was Aadi, who had shown me how all of my lives were connected like an amazing tree stretching infinitely through our lifetimes.
I knew it was her, but this time she looked like a school teacher, looking over the top of reading glasses of all things.
"Hello Halle. Thank you for coming in to see me.
I have been watching you lately, and as much as I hate to give bad news to a good person, I am afraid there is something you need to hear."
Moving behind an old wooden teachers' desk, she looked over to me and slowly shook her head side to side.
"You've been fooling yourself into believing this 'real person behind the male trappings' thing you are doing will work for the rest of your life.
Now, don't get me wrong, it has been and will be fine for you some of the time. Enough so you have honestly believed you could make this 'two people in one body' thing work."
She shook her head sadly and picked up a cookie tin that had magically appeared on the desk.
"No one can promise you happiness in any of your lives, but,... " She walked around the desk and put her hand softly on my face,
"You will only be yourself when you separate from the guy, move out and find your own place."
Nodding at me, she asked
"You know what I am telling you, don't you?"
I looked down at the floor, and nodded in agreement, then looked up to her and said "you are talking about the way I feel alone in a room full of people and have more acquaintances than friends and most of them online."
"Bingo!
Oh, you can still be a good person, a nice person, reliable and so on...
What you can't be to those around you is the authentic person that you've discovered in this past three years of searching."
Hand on my shoulder, she seemed to be guiding me to the door of the classroom.
"I say this with all the love in my heart my dear, sweet child:
Invisible people don't exist."
Removing the lid from the tin she extended it toward me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
… Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion; …
TS Eliot
Friday, 22 February 2013
Fictional and Functional
There was a movie in the late 1990's "The Sixth Sense" where the main character, a kid named Cole says "I see dead people.... walking around like regular people."
Perhaps being a writer of fiction is something like that; carrying people who never really existed around in your head, observing them and relating their story to readers. In my case, not really a writer of fiction (apart from my own maleness perhaps), I give life to people who have never really walked beside me, yet for me they are real enough to provide invaluable help along the way.
In a recent post the genetic woman I might have been, Beth rescued me from the doldrums. Her perspective gave me positive feelings about who I am, and how those feelings both up and down are normal and right. Together we live a motto that is likely to be shared by many: One Day at a Time.
Perhaps being a writer of fiction is something like that; carrying people who never really existed around in your head, observing them and relating their story to readers. In my case, not really a writer of fiction (apart from my own maleness perhaps), I give life to people who have never really walked beside me, yet for me they are real enough to provide invaluable help along the way.
In a recent post the genetic woman I might have been, Beth rescued me from the doldrums. Her perspective gave me positive feelings about who I am, and how those feelings both up and down are normal and right. Together we live a motto that is likely to be shared by many: One Day at a Time.
"Dreamtime encounters" with alternate or past selves may not be as good as meeting people with new ideas, but because I have permitted myself the luxury of imagination and taken the time to record those 'meetings', I understand better than ever how making choices over a lifetime works, how natural but futile it is to feel regret and how a feeling of guilt over some choices is natural, among other things. Perhaps best of all, I understand how shame corrodes our lives and must be recognized and left behind every time it tries to drown our hearts.
Another kind of conversation in our mind is often report by transgendered individuals; that between the male and female sides of our personalities. Early on in my blogging days, I reported on those conversations. The act of writing these out was cathartic and theraputic.
The conversation between the grumpy man and his life-loving oh so feminine companion continued for a while after I last posted on the topic and eventually the name of the blog changed to reflect that. For the first months it had been "Maintaining the Façade".
Is there a façade here now? The answer is simple. Until I can report the person in the mirror is unquestionably female, then there is still a façade. Currently it is much richer (read female) and easier to live with.
A more difficult question is, are there still two spirits here? Well, I've wondered about "An infinite number of spirits in one Halle" on the masthead. Way too bulky to fit, but you get the idea.
No need to worry about some sort of breakdown. Au contraire. I don't live in some dreamworld, populated by phantoms. There is power in imagination however, and I am not afraid to use that fertile imagination to flesh out and give life to useful ideas that otherwise might be quickly forgotten.
Friday, 25 January 2013
Beth ~ Live in the Present
Feeling really tired, I thought, maybe a little snooze. I wonder what Beth would do in my place. Hmm....
What a pleasant dream! Bright and sunny, warm (not like in the real world of -20C) and a golf course! No, not just any golf course, but my favourite. Please let this dream keep going!
There on the first tee, looking back at me was my dreamtime twin Beth. I wondered if she would recognize me. The first time we met and talked I had been in men's clothes for some reason and now, well all was as it should be is the best way to put it.
"White tees ok for you, twin?" she asked. "That will be fine, except when we get to six if you don't mind. I prefer the challenge of hitting over the canyon, so I'll play the blues there."
"It's my first time here, so please, be my guide." she said with a smile that was as wide as my own. It was really good to see her again.
Off we went, and of course, in dreamtime the shots were perfect, long and perfectly shaped; why else would we say "in your dreams' to someone wishing for such perfection in this game?
There is lots of time to talk when you walk a golf course, but Beth didn't waste time on small talk, cutting right to "That post on your blog was a lot whiney you know. I was glad to hear you and Grandad got along too though."
"Why do you say 'whiney'?"
"Sorry to be so blunt, but it sounded like 'Oh poor me. I don't have anyone who really knows me; can't have a good conversation. Yada, yada...' says that poor whiney person who needs a wake up call named Halle."
I hadn't thought it was that bad, but if anyone can call you out and get away with it, it should be your twin.
"It really sounded that bad did it?"
"Let's just say it wasn't your finest two minutes. Sorry to hear you are feeling down, but don't you think everyone feels that way some days? I don't live with your history, but I don't have anyone I talk to about my deepest concerns either."
"Not even your girls or best friends Beth?"
"Not really. Most of the things that bother me are ghosts that nobody can do anything about. Regrets and stuff like that. Like I said, yada, yada... My best friends wouldn't be such good friends for long if I went on about my worries all the time. "
I thought about what she had said, and had to agree, but tried to defend myself "There are all kinds of issues on the side that are making it seem worse I guess." She put her arm around my shoulder and nodded, "Ya, I get that, and you don't have someone in your life you can unload on. Welcome to the world of the single woman sweetie! It seems to me you have reached that exalted status of person who actually understands themselves and you aren't sure what to do about it."
I nodded back, acknowledging the truth of what she had said, then looked at the five foot putt she was lining up. A slippery downhill left to right. "These are really slick greens, just so you know."
She chuckled "Mind games already and just the first hole!" then stroked the ball into the middle of the hole. "Yup, fast and true, just like Dad always liked them."
We walked off to the second tee, both enjoying and commenting on the beautiful view. Then she stopped and turned to say,
"Halle, you can live one day at a time and find as much pleasure there as you can, or you can wonder what else you could be doing, if only, if only. Just another choice, don't you think?"
She had the honour, so she stepped up and sent the ball down the middle of the fairway, and of course, in my dreams, I also hit that least likely of shots and soon our balls sat together in the distance. We strolled along. I took her hand.
"Can we meet up now and then to chat so you can straighten me out?"
She kept looking forward, but squeezed my hand.
"As long as you don't mind me doing the same, sis."
What a pleasant dream! Bright and sunny, warm (not like in the real world of -20C) and a golf course! No, not just any golf course, but my favourite. Please let this dream keep going!
There on the first tee, looking back at me was my dreamtime twin Beth. I wondered if she would recognize me. The first time we met and talked I had been in men's clothes for some reason and now, well all was as it should be is the best way to put it.
"White tees ok for you, twin?" she asked. "That will be fine, except when we get to six if you don't mind. I prefer the challenge of hitting over the canyon, so I'll play the blues there."
"It's my first time here, so please, be my guide." she said with a smile that was as wide as my own. It was really good to see her again.
Off we went, and of course, in dreamtime the shots were perfect, long and perfectly shaped; why else would we say "in your dreams' to someone wishing for such perfection in this game?
There is lots of time to talk when you walk a golf course, but Beth didn't waste time on small talk, cutting right to "That post on your blog was a lot whiney you know. I was glad to hear you and Grandad got along too though." "Why do you say 'whiney'?"
"Sorry to be so blunt, but it sounded like 'Oh poor me. I don't have anyone who really knows me; can't have a good conversation. Yada, yada...' says that poor whiney person who needs a wake up call named Halle."
I hadn't thought it was that bad, but if anyone can call you out and get away with it, it should be your twin.
"It really sounded that bad did it?"
"Let's just say it wasn't your finest two minutes. Sorry to hear you are feeling down, but don't you think everyone feels that way some days? I don't live with your history, but I don't have anyone I talk to about my deepest concerns either."
"Not even your girls or best friends Beth?"
"Not really. Most of the things that bother me are ghosts that nobody can do anything about. Regrets and stuff like that. Like I said, yada, yada... My best friends wouldn't be such good friends for long if I went on about my worries all the time. "
I thought about what she had said, and had to agree, but tried to defend myself "There are all kinds of issues on the side that are making it seem worse I guess." She put her arm around my shoulder and nodded, "Ya, I get that, and you don't have someone in your life you can unload on. Welcome to the world of the single woman sweetie! It seems to me you have reached that exalted status of person who actually understands themselves and you aren't sure what to do about it."
I nodded back, acknowledging the truth of what she had said, then looked at the five foot putt she was lining up. A slippery downhill left to right. "These are really slick greens, just so you know."
She chuckled "Mind games already and just the first hole!" then stroked the ball into the middle of the hole. "Yup, fast and true, just like Dad always liked them."
We walked off to the second tee, both enjoying and commenting on the beautiful view. Then she stopped and turned to say,
"Halle, you can live one day at a time and find as much pleasure there as you can, or you can wonder what else you could be doing, if only, if only. Just another choice, don't you think?"
She had the honour, so she stepped up and sent the ball down the middle of the fairway, and of course, in my dreams, I also hit that least likely of shots and soon our balls sat together in the distance. We strolled along. I took her hand.
"Can we meet up now and then to chat so you can straighten me out?"
She kept looking forward, but squeezed my hand.
"As long as you don't mind me doing the same, sis."
Living in the Present
It occurred to me this morning that I have gained a personal insight into something my grandfather told me a long time ago.
He was quite the wit. At their sixtieth wedding anniversary party, sitting together hand in hand a family member asked my grandparents how they had stayed together for so long. Without a beat, Grandad replied, "Get married young, stay together and live a long time."
Those words of his were not the ones on my mind today though.
When he was into his nineties, with my grandmother dead for a few years, he observed as many do at that age that the hardest part of living a long life was being left as your friends and family pass on. He explained it wasn't just loneliness he felt though. It was a lack of connection to the present. There was nobody in his life who had been with him on the whole journey. That meant that any meaningful conversation had to begin with explanations of who he had been, and what things were like then, to give context to the conversation. Of course, what he needed to do was make new friends and create new contexts, yet that meant abandoning all those rambling, pleasant thoughts of who he had been (who wants to listen to some old guy ramble about that sort of thing?) and trying to find and maintain new relationships using current events and contexts.
Not old enough to be in that position, still I know how he felt; lonely and disconnected from the present. Daily life has become superficial. How can I feel truly connected to people who don't really know me? How can one talk about feelings or even ideas without explaining where you are coming from. Like Grandad felt and told me, it's silly explaining stuff nobody wants to hear at any rate.
A long time ago, I stated a goal (what part of me is goal oriented do you think?) ~ to be as true as possible to my feminine nature, while presenting as a male.
Back in those days, a lot of what I was feeling (what part of me do you think that was?) was the need to live true to myself.
Recently it seems the goal has been reached.
Be careful what you wish for.
Being content is not the same as being happy.
I am not convinced that I am living true to myself.
He was quite the wit. At their sixtieth wedding anniversary party, sitting together hand in hand a family member asked my grandparents how they had stayed together for so long. Without a beat, Grandad replied, "Get married young, stay together and live a long time."
Those words of his were not the ones on my mind today though.
When he was into his nineties, with my grandmother dead for a few years, he observed as many do at that age that the hardest part of living a long life was being left as your friends and family pass on. He explained it wasn't just loneliness he felt though. It was a lack of connection to the present. There was nobody in his life who had been with him on the whole journey. That meant that any meaningful conversation had to begin with explanations of who he had been, and what things were like then, to give context to the conversation. Of course, what he needed to do was make new friends and create new contexts, yet that meant abandoning all those rambling, pleasant thoughts of who he had been (who wants to listen to some old guy ramble about that sort of thing?) and trying to find and maintain new relationships using current events and contexts.
Not old enough to be in that position, still I know how he felt; lonely and disconnected from the present. Daily life has become superficial. How can I feel truly connected to people who don't really know me? How can one talk about feelings or even ideas without explaining where you are coming from. Like Grandad felt and told me, it's silly explaining stuff nobody wants to hear at any rate.
A long time ago, I stated a goal (what part of me is goal oriented do you think?) ~ to be as true as possible to my feminine nature, while presenting as a male.
Back in those days, a lot of what I was feeling (what part of me do you think that was?) was the need to live true to myself.
Recently it seems the goal has been reached.
Be careful what you wish for.
Being content is not the same as being happy.
I am not convinced that I am living true to myself.
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