Christmas Night '21

So Christmas is over, thank God.  This tale begins on my last day of work at the LGBT Center for the semester.  As a thank you for volunteering to speak to classes, they gave me a $20 Starbucks gift card.  I don't drink coffee.  All of us working there got a small bag full of stickers and glitter pens and such.  A couple of days ago, my friend Aimee gave me a Christmas ball she knitted, which promptly went on the tree.

I've had insomnia the past few nights (what else is new?)  This morning, I woke up around 7, coughing my head off from this cold I can't kick.  It isn't Covid- I was checked.  I had a bowl of cereal, and went back to bed, having had only four hours of sleep.  Besides, Linda wasn't up yet, so...

I crawled out of bed again around 11:30.  Plopped on the couch until Linda was ready to open her gifts.  I bought her a book.  Linda's sister generously sent me a bag of small things, and my dear friend Jenny North sent me a DVD, an ornament, as well as a Disney + subscription.  She's far too kind.  In any case, that was my Christmas.  

Linda and I played a couple of games during the day.  I made dinner: ham and mashed potatoes.  We watched a movie.

11:30 and I still wasn't tired.  I took melatonin, but knew from experience that it would take time to hit. (it's 1:06 as I type this and I'm still wide awake).  I decided to take a drive downtown, so Linda wouldn't have to listen to me cry.  

And cry I did.  For the past few Christmases, all I've asked for from Wife for Xmas was for her and Daughter to come visit me for the day.  Hasn't happened.  Still.  I barely spoke to either of them, as while they returned one call briefly (as they were going to Wawa), the second call wasn't returned.  Guess they had better things to do.  I texted with Daughter a bit though.

Christmas Tree, College and Allen

I'm tired of the fact that they are Top Priority for me while I'm merely and inconvenience or obligation to them.  It's tearing me apart.  So, I cried like the weak little useless child that I am.  (Got a bloody nose out of nowhere as well.)  

I arrived at the main intersection in State College: Allen St and College Ave.  That's where the "gateway to the University" stands, as well as the Christmas tree.  I took pictures.  Downtown was empty.  No one on the roads, and maybe three people walking.  I walked half a block to take more pictures, and as I walked back to my car, I heard music coming from Zeno's, a basement bar I frequented back in the day.  It was open!  So I walked down the stairs, and had a beer.

Alone at Zeno's

There were a few Asian women at the bar wearing very short dresses as well as maybe six other people, plus staff.  I sat at a small round table, and quietly drank the beer.  Around 12:05, they started kicking people out.  I finished my beer, and walked over to the bar to pay my tab.  It was free- the bartender wrote "Merry Christmas" on the charge slip.  I had no cash to tip him.

I left him the Starbucks gift card, and went back to my car.

I hate Christmas, almost as much as I hate my life.

Stopped to see an old friend on the way home.

Holidazed

I've written many times here, on TG Forum, and on social media about my feelings about the Christmas holiday.  I hate it.  Absolutely and thoroughly.

Yes, I know- stop whining.

Like me, so many transgender people lose their families when they come out.  In my case, I lost my marriage as well.  My daughter was five when I was thrown out.  During the few years before that, I tolerated the holidays, because of the magic I saw in her eyes, especially on Christmas morning.  She loved Christmas and everything that came with it.  Does she still?  I have no idea.  I never see her on Christmas anymore- not in years.  

I just asked her via text.  She said "Yeah, kinda.  I like giving gifts."  

One of the major reasons I hate Xmas is all those years in the service industry: bartending, serving, wholesale, and the worst: retail.  Any of you who have worked retail during the holidays know how horrific people can be during that time.  During the last few years at the book store, working Xmas eve left me actively looking for ways to die after work.  People were that bad.  I would drive home sobbing and hating every breath and heartbeat.  Sleep couldn't come fast enough.  One year, my friend Katie insisted on coming over with bottles of wine.  She literally kept me alive that night.  

I used to enjoy Christmas when I was young.  Gifts from Santa were great.  Also, the whole family (dad's side) would get together.  I used to get along well with many of my cousins.  That kinda ended when we all started hitting our teens, and the oldest of the cousins married, etc.  When I hit my teens, I felt more isolated, because teen, but also because of my Dark Secret I needed to hide- that I was trans.  

In very late 1989, I met someone who loves Christmas.  We dated through spring and summer 1990, and she kept telling me that she was going to teach me to love the holiday, as her family was REALLY into it.  But she cheated, and by October it was over.  Then my first suicide attempt.  Thing is- I was really looking forward to seeing why her family loved it so much.  That added to the bitterness of the breakup and the holiday. That was over thirty years ago.  Yes, it takes me forever to get over some things.

Yesterday

For a few years, I did "Orphan's Christmas Eve" at my house in Baltimore and then when I moved back to PA.  That ended when I was thrown out.  I enjoyed that bit.  I think I already wrote about it somewhere.

Since coming back to PSU, it hasn't been as bad as that.  My roomie/bestie Linda and I watch TV Christmas eve.  Next morning she opens the gifts I give her as well as the ones from her sister.  The past few years, a dear friend has sent me a gift which I open Xmas morning.  That done, it becomes just another day.

Just another day.

But it's a day where everything is closed, everyone is busy (not that I have many friends around here- I don't), and there's nothing good on TV.  Some bars and such open that night, but by then I'm not in the mood for being social.  Maybe I will afford a decent thing to make for dinner, like a turkey or ham.  (Who am I kidding? It'll be Hamburger Helper.)

Thing is- I have it SO much better than so many people, especially trans women.  So many of us are homeless or worse.  In my case, at least I have Linda here, and maybe I'll be able to speak to Wife and daughter if they're not too busy.  Usually her brothers come over with their many kids (ten between them.)  So many of us have absolutely no one.

Maybe I'll have the money to buy a bottle or two and drink myself into oblivion.  Been a while since I've done that.  Besides, it's not like I'm doing anything the next day or so after.  I don't recover as well as when I was younger.  But Drinking, I'd go to sleep, and the day would be over.  

Face it, the only three spirits helping me with Christmas will be liquid, not Dickens-esque.

In any case, I know many of you enjoy the holidays, and for that I am grateful.  Enjoy them for me too, please.  

Be well.

Dreams are Personal

I can't think of anything more personal than dreams.  Nothing- not fears, intimate encounters, secrets, is more personal.  When one reveals their dreams, they reveal their soul.  Dreams are the ultimate secret. 

For so many transgender people, living their Truth, or surgeries are their deepest dream and darkest secret; a secret that many take to the grave.  How many transgender women needed someone to "scrub" their homes of any feminine clothing or things before family found out post-mortem?  How many pass never living that dream for even a moment?

A week ago

Some say I'm living the dream, as I am full time as myself.  I usually reply that, no, I'm living a nightmare.  But has living my Truth been my biggest dream?  My fondest wish?  

No.

My biggest dream, beyond any other was to grow old with my Wife.  Once I decided "yes, she's the one" that has been the goal.  Even before that- the idea of growing old with my life partner- if I could do that, then everything else would be at least ok.  I remember thinking on my wedding day, as I looked into Wife's eyes... this is it.  This is the rest of my life.  

Well, I screwed that up over 8 1/2 years ago, didn't I?  

Lately I've wondered if I should detransition- if we could be a family again.  But I already know the answer to that: we can't.  Wife doesn't want to.  So even if I wanted to detransition (I don't), it wouldn't matter, I'll still be alone.  I'll die alone.  I already know this- always have.  I just dreamed of living out my days with my Wife.  That isn't going to happen no matter what.  

So when someone tells you their dreams- listen.  They're revealing who they really are.  

But be careful!  Dreams, like Hope, lie.