Still a Façade

On a bright day not that long past I wrote and believed:

I am NOT my body

If that is so, and I know it is, how is it that contrary feelings persist? I am fundamentally mismatched and wrong and cannot banish that thought. 

A wonderful lady who I have worked with several times over the past three years, let's call her M, saw me from across the room at a social occasion recently, walked over to me and asked:

"Are you feeling OK? You look really stressed out."

We have done some pretty high pressure stuff together and M knows me very well. Hmm, let's put that correctly. She knows the public version really well and by the nature of what we have done she has had glimpses of a deeper hidden person. Let's be clear though, M is not privy to the secret.

I came very close to bringing her into that small inner circle in that moment. M has a way of asking important questions, and in those times seems to be looking into your soul. That moment felt so much like a connection to Me, the real me, not to him; that person the world sees and thinks they know. The circumstances were not right ~not enough time ~ too many others close by. The moment was lost, for now. I could have made lots of excuses for what she had noticed, after all, there is a lot to be worried about these days. The struggles of those living in parts of the Middle East came to mind as one that weighs heavily, but I wanted to be honest with her. I like M a lot. I couldn't lie to her, so I told her there is a personal issue that is stressing me out and perhaps we should talk about it, but at another, better time. 

I wanted to say, "M, the thing that is stressing me out so much is the fact that I am bound by a promise to not tell you or anyone else who I am and all that I truly feel." 

This fleeting connection with M's caring soul touched me and crystallized feelings that have been at the edge of my life for so long, and have nagged at me saying do something to end the conflict between who you seem to be and who you are.

Before I can share with her, or anyone else in my life, I should be able to convert images and feelings into words. I will flesh myself out as I would a fictional character. I see myself, relaxed and smiling and in control. Slightly insecure checking myself out in a mirror before striding forward into the world. I feel a tug on the ears, a glint of dangling gold around my neck and wrist, colour on my toes and fingertips catching my eye to remind me who I am, and a wardrobe proclaiming to all, 'this is my look' today. The smell of my favourite scent wafts out to announce my presence while reminding me of a friend who suggested it and bought the first bottle I owned. 

So this is a person others could know if I permitted it. In place of that reality, this same heart and soul is living in a limited, controlled way. Life is muted, with high points corresponding to connection with friends online and brief guest appearances in the real world by what I say, or how I act, but never, never how I look or how I feel. Some might and have counselled, "get dressed up and head out." and to them I say, I will do that just as soon as I can promise myself to never ever go back. Going back would tear my heart out.

It is difficult to admit to all of this so far into what has been an increasingly satisfying journey away from ego-centric matters. As much as it hurts to admit, it seems we sometimes have to accept that matters of the body and the ego must be dealt with. I would like to think that the growth and self-acceptance I have felt over this past four years will somehow make a difference in how I handle myself today.

The spiro has worked for so long. Yet here I am tortured by a vision of who I'd choose to be. I wonder if further intervention to eliminate the effects of androgen would help. Perhaps, and I suppose that is worth trying too. 

Fully aware of the turmoil I'm feeling these days and the lengths I am going to, a good friend remarked in an email recently:

"To outsiders it all seems so absurd, they have NO points of reference, how can big changes (that) make such small differences to the way you live be so important? Then again look how hard they fight to keep us in our place, what do they fear?"

Random ~ Really?

It takes all kinds to make a world. I know lots of folks who are only happy doing things they have always done, and doing it the same way they have always done it. 

That is not how I roll, as you might have guessed. This is a post about being happy seeing a new idea and understanding it, and maybe embracing it.

I know why this blog got started. It is up there under my sunrise snapshot. I ask myself questions now that never would have occurred to me to ask, let alone explore at that time over four years ago. 

Part of what has happened has to do with how I have chosen to continue to find ways to deal with a distraction that will not go away in my daily life, but somehow, because I feel I must deal with it, I deal with it. That alone leads me along paths not traveled by many. 

The other part of what has happened has to do with you. 

You stop by. You read and react based on those things that are part of your life. Some quickly click a mouse or touchpad and leave. That doesn't change my life. Sorry. Many read and re-read then think of what is here and what it means to them, then decide to say something down there at the bottom, and next thing you know, two things happen. One, I read and it tells me something I hadn't thought of before. Two, and this happens more often than you might guess, I ask myself who this person is and what else they have to say and I go looking for your blog. Sometimes to my great disappointment you have no blog. Perhaps you tweet, or do facetime, but no blog. I don't really do those other social media things (another post perhaps), so then I have to wait until you comment again to learn more of a different way to look at the same thing. 

Let me get to the point here. Many will suggest that there is guidance in what happens. Some would go a bit over the top and suggest that all of this is a gift from God, which immediately makes me wonder, if God loves me and gives me such wonderful gifts, why is it that others seem to get so neglected? Does God love me but hate them? Just asking...

I will admit that synchronicity puzzles and amazes me. 

Here is a possible thing to think about then I think it is time to get your views on the same idea, or any idea that comes to mind. 

"God helps those who help themselves"

Whatever the truth is, and it could be simple probability, I will continue this path, asking questions and putting it out here for you to read. I know one thing as a certainty; If I had not started this blog my life would be poorer. Much, much poorer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, here below the fold, as Cassidy would say, a big thank you to Ashley in Alberta for including me in her list of bloggers to receive

Of course, attached to this honour are rules:

1. Thank and link back to the person who nominated you.
 ~ see above ~

2. List the rules and display the award ~ keep reading ~

3. Include seven facts about yourself.
 ~ see below ~

4. Nominate 15 (no... like Ashley I will pass this along to some) other bloggers and let them know about the award.
 ~ see below the below the fold ~

5. Display the award and follow the blogger who nominated you (if not already!) ~ I proudly follow Ashley!

Some facts in no particular order:

~ Before starting this blog, I'd never imagined writing anything for anyone else to read. It turns out I love writing, and have even had ideas for a novel, but thank goodness those ideas have yet to grab me by the scruff of the neck and insist on being put down.

~ Taking time to make music both instrumental and vocal is essential to my well-being.

~ I am a good cook, and an even better eater.

~ I continue to struggle with depression. Cannot imagine why…

~ Golf has become a metaphor for life for me, and the more I like myself, the lower the score (that is a good thing by the way). I love being on the golf course no matter what the score. Like my life, competition with someone else never matters to me... Companionship does.

~ By the time I was eight years old, some testing had identified me as a genius. It didn't help (the information that is). To this day I have no idea why money was spent finding out stuff like that, other than it permitted many teachers to comment "Not working to his potential".

~ I have a collection of recordings from 78 rpm's to cd's that fills many meters (big yards) of shelving space. It would take months to listen to it all. I have an ongoing project to digitize the vinyl and shellac part. It has recently occurred to me that most of it is likely already on YouTube and my efforts are unnecessary, but sometimes it is a process that is important, rather than the result.

Nominations for this prestigious award should include every single blog that appears in the list over on the right side (sorry if you use your mobile device you need to load the "web version". As well, to see many, you need to click on show all:

So, who to choose? In the spirit of the above the fold material, here are blogs by folk who have stopped by here not to read about a transexual from Canada, but for other reasons known only to themselves. 

Thank you for making me feel wonderful and appreciated as a person. 

Ellena's Cocologie

Gwynt

FÜNFFINGERPLÄTZE

Lindsay's Lobes

Getting To Me

It's All in Your Head

The inability to forget is infinitely more devastating than the inability to remember  (Mark Twain)

Something that always amazes me is how ideas come together when I deeply desire understanding, and then pay attention to what happens next. On Thursday Jules posted on the topic of avoiding. It got me thinking about how doing something small and positive has always worked better for me than fussing over a big seemingly impossible problem. This was the beginning of some synchronicity. 

As my previous post will attest, I've been feeling agitated and down for the past few days. Thursday morning was a low spot, but overall it hasn't been very good for many days. Yesterday morning, I chatted online with a wonderful girlfriend, and felt a lot better, but realized that after a while my mood was headed downhill yet again. As I wrote to her later, it dawned on me that when she and I were online together, it was as if I was transitioned already. I was me and this body I dislike was not an issue at all. I needed to believe in my power to be the same person all the time so that no matter what people see when they look at me, that person inside can be me.

Then, more synchronicity:

As frequent visitors here will recall, golf is an important part of my recreational life. Yesterday afternoon, after the revelation I mentioned above  I was wandering around the public library in town, just putting in time while waiting for my sweetie, and happened to see a book I've meant to read. "Golf is Not a Game of Perfect" by Dr. Bob Rotella. I signed it out but didn't open it until this morning, when I read:

"NOT MANY PEOPLE think that their state of mind is a matter of choice. But I believe it is. Unfortunately, major branches of psychology and psychiatry during this century have helped promote the notion that we are all in some sense victims—victims of insensitive parents, victims of poverty, victims of abuse, victims of implacable genes. Our state of mind, therefore, is someone else’s responsibility. This kind of psychology is very appealing to many academics. It gives them endless opportunities to pretend they know what makes an individual miserable and unsuccessful. It appeals as well to a lot of unhappy people. It gives them an excuse for their misery. It permits them to evade the responsibility for their own lives."

followed by

"people by and large become what they think about themselves"

That really hit home. 

I have only just started reading this book, but as you can tell, Dr Rotella has my attention. If it helps me improve my golf game, that will be a bonus. 

Life on the Edge

Just a short note today because what happened yesterday needs to be acknowledged so I can move on and remember it only as a lesson.

As the morning wore on, I was becoming more and more agitated. I know the signs, even if it has been a while since having to live with them day after day.
On the edge of a phone call for an emergency counselling session with the good Dr. T (my therapist), it suddenly dawned on me "I forgot to take my pills this morning!"

It is hard to believe that a few hours without chemical intervention could possibly make such a difference. By dinner time I was back in control of feelings that never completely go away. Today, all is as it should be.

It is wonderful to connect with a higher self, but as we all know, we have to acknowledge and connect with the self that deals with the body and its requirements as well. Both must be honoured.

OK, time to get on with the day! Hope yours is a good one too!