Hey mom,
I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared enough to sway your opinion on this. And maybe that shouldn’t be my goal anyway. I already feel defeated because I don’t see any scenario where we arrive at a productive end. But this isn’t chess. This is a relationship. And I know you’re concerned about me.
How did I get here anyway?
I know you have decided that it’s because of how society views men. Or maybe self esteem. Or a billion of other things that I’ve incorrectly labelled. My weight caused an increase of estrogen. I don’t know I guess I don’t have whatever facilities are needed to make a sound decision. I need therapy or placed into a padded room.
When am I ever met with anything but resistance? When am I ever not treated like a child who is incapable of making choices? Why do you wish to live my life and make every choice for me? Why do you want a robot?
Yes it’s selfish. I tried to take up approximately 0 space my whole life. I’ve been doing that since I was a kid, then as I became a teen, then as I became an adult–well by numbers anyway… then I got married. Guess what I was doing then? Yeah not taking up space. I don’t want to burden anyone.
I went with the current. Unless there was a way to go against the current in other areas that weren’t seen. Sure yeah, I’m not a god or anything. I can’t go up against God, right? Yet we see people in the Bible hopelessly pleaing with God. We see stories where the faithful plea for the unfaithful–Sodom and Gomorrah. We see Jesus asking the Father to forgive them for they know not what they do.
Then we see Jesus predicting things that happen. And they happen just as predicted. The people taking part were there to hear the predictions and they still happened. How is it that they couldn’t have changed a single prediction? They had a script I guess? Did they do the right thing or the wrong thing? I don’t know–I’m probably wrong to get the impression that they didn’t have free will.
My heart continually eats away at itself. I’m cut off from my body. At a young age I remember looking in the mirror dreading growing up and becoming a man. The hardened appearance. I didn’t end up getting that hardened appearance. I was overweight. I liked being cute. The only time I liked being handsome was from the prospect of being a choice that a woman might like.
At some point I think I disappeared to live behind a mask I didn’t know I was wearing. I’d defend transsexuals on the bus without a second thought. (Not that there were any transsexuals that I knew of other than the ones on the Maury show.) I guess that’s neither here nor there. But I think it was unusual enough given my personality to mention.
Shouldn’t a transition be at least somewhat selfish? If you’re not transitioning for yourself then you shouldn’t be transitioning at all? I mean it can be so that you can be an effective person and then the impacts that has on people around you. Like if I’m transitioning for someone else that doesn’t really make any sense–that’s peer pressure.
I don’t know. When I do the analysis I get stuck on certain parts. Why do I need to transition to get to where I need to be? I’ve drawn a blank on this. Why does transition seem to be an effective way to convince me to care about myself?
I realize that the body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. Mine is plain. Empty. Blank. Neglected. Not cared for. I can’t seem to turn on the lights in here. I haven’t wanted to turn on the lights. Until transition entered the picture. I started hormones. I heard my body for the first time in years. I cried. Sure it was emotional. But I also hadn’t been connected to my body in some time. I felt alive. I felt like a person. My heart stopped eroding itself. I started to care about my body. I feel like I’ve reconciled with my body. I cried because I was sorry that I had done this to it. I cried because until then I hadn’t felt alive. I felt peace in a way that I hadn’t in a long time. I felt calm. I felt self-assured. I felt–maybe even a little self-confident.
I was afraid to tell anyone because I was afraid they’d want to take it away.
I thought I even had a conviction to transition. A calling to it. That doesn’t seem possible. God’s creation is perfect. Infallible. Why are there people who are born with mental problems and serious defects? Why are sex and gender immune to those defects? Sin entered the world. We were subjected to sin to be liberated from it. Part of my journey is transition. I would be a robot and a lie without transition.
Mom, I believe I’m making the best decision with the information I have. I’ve been taking up as little space as possible. I think it was a lie. I think I can be a person. I think I can turn on the lights in this once abandoned temple. I won’t be perfect. Transition isn’t some magic cure-all that makes all my depression go away. There’s no promise of happiness. Transgender people are probably one of the most hated people in our society right now. I think there are a lot of them that give transgender people a bad name. A lot of them are filled with violent thoughts and aspirations. That’s not me. I don’t think what I’ll call transgender extremists are right.
My experience of my hormones so far have been night and day. I know that new-ness will fade into the mundane. I look forward to that.
Sincerely,
B