I wish I could tell you what you should do, a perfect formula. Use this to get out of any social barbs you may run into, use this to get yourself free from snags.
I don’t have it.
I think many of you are probably just plain bold enough to rely on your autonomy and maintain your autonomy and go against people who say you’re wrong. I’m not that person and I internalize opposing voices, it’s been my safety net my whole life. It’s been how I build trust maybe. Now I’m using myself as currency to earn trust, to hold onto relationships. Bartering my soul and autonomy. Bartering myself.
I live on those parts in some other realm, in my head, in my soul, the places I retract to escape. It’s always there that place. I wish someone would acknowledge this of me, that I could think God would tell me about how I traded my soul in that I lived this way.
I trade myself for peace, so I don’t have to fight, trade it in so I don’t have to strain relationships and push through uncertainty. I trade my bravery for fear for stability.
“Are you happy with me?” Sure because I find ways to convince myself that you’re not that one forcing my hand and forcing myself to live like this. I get to choose either to be an abomination to myself or to the world. I get to choose between a lonely cure or an even lonelier poison. The love doesn’t hit me the same if I’m not myself. But no it’s all in my head–you don’t say it but you believe that. I’m not able to be myself.
I know I grew up, wore the male roles. I fit in with men more than women–kinda. I colored in the lines as best as I could. I have no interest in the grandiose goals of men the scale of ambition was never mine. My heart wanted to be beautiful. I just never expected it to be more literal.
I half expected women to be very welcoming and wanting me to transition. Maybe they are out there, some of them are. Excited at the prospects of my being included in their world. Instead I’m the intruder. Transition is a bit jarring for those along for the ride, the idea and concept takes a while to accept. Transition is nerve wrecking for those becoming.
Self doubt, constant. Am I out of my mind? Well no I’m pretty serious and it feels nice to be referred to as she/her and Hannah. It’s me. The truest me there is. The darkest held secret. I locked it away from myself. Why then… is it I suddenly make sense to myself as a woman? This is my driving force these days.