Sometimes I wonder if it's all a Dream.
Do I REALLY know all these fantastic people? Are there REALLY such good people like Linda, Ally, Sandy, Jone, Sami, Kimberly, Jenny, Amanda, and so many more... in my life? Are they REALLY my friends? How could a person be so lucky?
Am I really living as my True Self... all the time? Sometimes I look down at myself at work and see the dress I'm wearing... see my breasts standing out proudly... and I can't believe I'm not asleep.
And speaking of which, sometimes I look in the mirror after a shower and see a woman. I look at my chest and see my breasts... MY breasts. I've dreamed of them all my life. Ached for them. And now there they are. I can touch them, and they are real. I can no longer hide them. They state to everyone who and what I am: Female.
Do I really have a Daughter? I fought being a parent so long, and yet there she is: my beautiful daughter. She is part of me, and, God willing, will outlive me. And she loves me. That has to be a dream. As much as my beautiful Wife was a dream come true. Surely, she HAS to be a dream- why would someone like her care about me?
Did I really do all those things? Was I really a paramedic saving lives? Did I go to all of those places?
Did I really go to University? How did I graduate? And how in hell did I manage an advanced degree? Was Penn State just a dream that still wanders through my consciousness?
Do I really have a Voice? My writing? Do people actually care about the sh*t I churn out? Have I really been published? Or is this going to vanish in the currents and eddies of an ever changing dream.
Sometimes I wonder if this is all a horrible Nightmare.
Has my writing really done so little to change the world? Why can't I get a book published? Why does writing have to hurt?
Did I do all of that work, all of that studying to get my degrees for nothing? All they've given me is a sea of debt in which I could drown. They haven't helped me get a job. All they are is a worthless pair of papers.
Have I done so little? All those people who served in the military did so much more- have seen so much more. So I saved a few lives. They're probably all dead by now anyway. Like they would remember me anyway- I was just an anonymous person in a uniform or helmet.
Is my marriage really over? Almost 23 years and for what? I'm no better off than before. After it all, I'm alone, and will always be. Has my presence in her life really helped my Wife? Or have I been just a curse? And my daughter- what kind of parent can I be from a distance? What kind of parent opens their child to ridicule and bullying like I have?
Yes, I have breasts... but that's all. I'm a freak. I see the breasts in the mirror, but I also see that I'm grotesquely overweight, and worse- I see what still mocks me from between my legs. It shouts at me "YOU'RE A MAN! YOU'RE MALE!"
I go to work in a dress, true. But how many people misgender me? An entire political party wants nothing less than my blood to run in the street, and their followers are all to happy to oblige them. I have to be extremely careful where I go, lest I get beaten or worse.
All these amazing people. They are so much better than me. They are braver. They are more beautiful. More poised. More intelligent. More compassionate. Sane. There's no reason in hell that they should want me around them; dragging them down. What kind of friend am I when I can't help my best friend when she needed me... when she died?
So is it a Dream? A Nightmare?
Will I ever truly awaken?
And so I sleep on...
Dreaming of a Better Life for us all.
Do I REALLY know all these fantastic people? Are there REALLY such good people like Linda, Ally, Sandy, Jone, Sami, Kimberly, Jenny, Amanda, and so many more... in my life? Are they REALLY my friends? How could a person be so lucky?
Am I really living as my True Self... all the time? Sometimes I look down at myself at work and see the dress I'm wearing... see my breasts standing out proudly... and I can't believe I'm not asleep.
And speaking of which, sometimes I look in the mirror after a shower and see a woman. I look at my chest and see my breasts... MY breasts. I've dreamed of them all my life. Ached for them. And now there they are. I can touch them, and they are real. I can no longer hide them. They state to everyone who and what I am: Female.
Do I really have a Daughter? I fought being a parent so long, and yet there she is: my beautiful daughter. She is part of me, and, God willing, will outlive me. And she loves me. That has to be a dream. As much as my beautiful Wife was a dream come true. Surely, she HAS to be a dream- why would someone like her care about me?
Did I really do all those things? Was I really a paramedic saving lives? Did I go to all of those places?
Did I really go to University? How did I graduate? And how in hell did I manage an advanced degree? Was Penn State just a dream that still wanders through my consciousness?
Do I really have a Voice? My writing? Do people actually care about the sh*t I churn out? Have I really been published? Or is this going to vanish in the currents and eddies of an ever changing dream.
Is this the real life?
Sometimes I wonder if this is all a horrible Nightmare.
Has my writing really done so little to change the world? Why can't I get a book published? Why does writing have to hurt?
Did I do all of that work, all of that studying to get my degrees for nothing? All they've given me is a sea of debt in which I could drown. They haven't helped me get a job. All they are is a worthless pair of papers.
Have I done so little? All those people who served in the military did so much more- have seen so much more. So I saved a few lives. They're probably all dead by now anyway. Like they would remember me anyway- I was just an anonymous person in a uniform or helmet.
Is my marriage really over? Almost 23 years and for what? I'm no better off than before. After it all, I'm alone, and will always be. Has my presence in her life really helped my Wife? Or have I been just a curse? And my daughter- what kind of parent can I be from a distance? What kind of parent opens their child to ridicule and bullying like I have?
Yes, I have breasts... but that's all. I'm a freak. I see the breasts in the mirror, but I also see that I'm grotesquely overweight, and worse- I see what still mocks me from between my legs. It shouts at me "YOU'RE A MAN! YOU'RE MALE!"
I go to work in a dress, true. But how many people misgender me? An entire political party wants nothing less than my blood to run in the street, and their followers are all to happy to oblige them. I have to be extremely careful where I go, lest I get beaten or worse.
All these amazing people. They are so much better than me. They are braver. They are more beautiful. More poised. More intelligent. More compassionate. Sane. There's no reason in hell that they should want me around them; dragging them down. What kind of friend am I when I can't help my best friend when she needed me... when she died?
So is it a Dream? A Nightmare?
Will I ever truly awaken?
And so I sleep on...
Dreaming of a Better Life for us all.
There are two wolves, and they're always fighting. One is darkness and despair, the other is light and hope. Which one wins?
ReplyDeleteThe one you feed.
We often look at dreams as lofty aspirations out of reach and nightmares as horrible things we're helpless against. But I don't think we don't give ourselves enough credit for the work we do to build our dreams or to choose hope in the face of overwhelming adversity. The advantage that darkness has is that when you choose it, it doesn't feel like a choice, but it is.
But me, I'm rooting for the dreamers. :-)
So, like much in life, it's a mixed bag . . .
ReplyDeleteWe are the sum of our experience. Mountains, valleys...highs, lows, and all the 'in-between'. Is everything rosy? No, but you can always just look around at people who have done all those things mentioned. The hard work, the expectations, the dreams. It all makes for a colorful tapestry. Turn a tapestry over, and there is nothing but in-congruence, knots, and pulls...but if you just turn (or look) at the other side, you find that beautiful picture, one of color and pleasantness.
ReplyDeleteI see that beautiful side of you, my dear, beautiful friend.
I am proud and honored to know you. You being color to MY life! <3
I don't know much but I do know you are an awesome person and I only wish we lived so closer so that a friendship started in Albany could grow even stronger. Big his
ReplyDeleteAs Willy once told me, "We are the makers of music. We are the dreamers of dreams". The song is not finished Sophie, there is so much more to be written.
ReplyDeleteAs Willy once said, "We are the makers of music. We are the dreamers of dreams". Sophie, the song is not yet finished, but the harmonies keep getting better.
ReplyDeleteWe are our own harshest critic. You are a wonderful, fabulous person. Your words are wonderful. You deserve your friends, you have saved people and have done all the wonderful things that have listed. People love you, be of good cheer! Don't feed the wolf of darkness and despair!!!
ReplyDeleteSophie -
ReplyDeleteBetter than you???? Different, but not better.
We are anomalies in life, all of us trying to find a place to fit in. As TG's, we have a harder road than most. But it could be much worse. We have something special as well, as we are privileged to see life from multiple viewpoints. We get to understand more than the average person, as this understanding helps us to survive life.
You are a great person, an inspiration to all of us. You are not perfect. But you are a perfect illustration of why our lives matter. You have done so many things, and should never forget your accomplishments - most notably, having a beautiful daughter that you cherish so much.
So keep on with life - none of us knows what's around the next corner....
And hopefully, we'll be able to meet one day, when I'm in the Philly area.
M