Thick Skull

Every person had parent(s) with certain phrases they used a lot.  They seem so serious when you hear them as a child, but when you're older sound pretty ridiculous.

One I heard enough was some variation on "Thick skull."

"Can't you get that through your thick skull?"  "When will you get it through your thick skull?"  That sort of thing.

Now, like all kids there were times I was quite stubborn, or just wouldn't listen.  And, of course, there were times I wouldn't behave.

And the Truth is- I DO have a Thick Skull.

Thick.

I am stubborn.  I always have been, and, while in some ways it has hurt me, for the most part it has served me well.  If I weren't so stubborn I would've been dead long ago.  If I weren't so persistent, I wouldn't have graduated college, never mind getting a masters degree (what little good that's done me.)

Being stubborn is something I looked for in women when I was dating.  And Wife is stubborn.  She doesn't compromise her beliefs.  And Daughter has inherited that stubborn streak from us both, which I'm sure will not be fun when she's a teen.

But, as noted above, being Thick-skulled has a downside.

I transitioned when I was 47 years old.  That was 47 years of absolutely HATING myself.  Being disgusted by who and what I saw in the mirror.  Taking to heart every negative thing and every rejection I heard and had in my life.  Raging against my own existence, and trying to drink away the Pain.

I hated the fact that I was even born.  Still do in fact.

It's been several weeks of unplanned life.  And I still get messages, private and public, of support.

I've always ignored them before as well meaning, but misguided.  After all, I knew what they did not- that my soul was a rotted, blackened shell.  That any praise was just the person being polite.  It never occurred to me to take any of it seriously.  After all, this was ME they were talking about, and I have never ever been praise-worthy.

A random thought- in British slang "thick" also means "stupid," as in brain dead, numpty, dolt, dillon, dummy, pranny.   And as many of you know, my Mum is a Scot.

The past few weeks, I have been genuinely trying to grasp what my Life truly means.

I've tried to let myself let go a bit and actually Enjoy life.  Life as it is now.  This has involved taking a Hard Look at myself.  Who am I?  What am I?  Is this all that I am?  Is there nothing more?  (Sorry- got all V'ger there for a second.)


I see myself- and I see many of the Dreams of my youth have come to pass.  I look in the mirror and see, aside from one major detail, a Woman.  My breasts are the size I always dreamed they would be- what I wanted. (Yes, I know how I lucky I am with that.)  My looks are feminine enough.  Could be better.  My hair is long.

And here's the Rub:  as I wrote above, all I've gained, all of who I am: making it through college, getting a masters, transition, even simply surviving- is ALL because I'm too damn stubborn.

But, and here's my point (finally): sometimes I'm too stubborn- too thick-skulled for my own good.  All of those wonderful things people have said; all of the notes and messages...  just bounced off.

I didn't let them in.

Until now.

I'm actually listening.  I'm beginning to think that MAYBE, just MAYBE, those people, those incredible friends who cared enough about me to write/call...  may have a point.

Maybe I'm not just a disgusting blob of fat; unfit to live.  Maybe my words DO make a difference.

Maybe there is Hope.

From Death of Captain Marvel by Jim Starlin (1982)

As the Norwegians sang:  "Slowly learning that life is ok."


Be well.