Michael's Story (part 3)
Cheryl Marie was a lovely girl I met in Cincinnati a number of years ago. Sadly, her life was cut short when she was hospitalized and died from pneumonia acquired there. This story is exactly as she wrote it, except for a few spelling and grammatical corrections. I publish this in fond memory of her – I only wish she had lived to see it published.
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Like so many in my state, attending a major transgender conference was a logical next step and rite of passage. I chose the largest, the Southern Comfort Conference (SCC). Such a conference offers so much: socializing with and meeting others of every conceivable background and personality, attending a range of seminars, ranging from how to be more feminine in deportment and appearance to legal and medical issues. Exploring the deeper emotions of transgendered yearnings and life, from the cost and pain of the experience to the joy of fully expressing the reality of one's true self.
For sure, SCC also offered programs on the legal and political ramifications of being part of the community and fighting for ones rights, recognition and dignity as part of the community ... I adored that aspect, as it appealed to my deep sense of political liberalism!
But also lots of social fun things from pool parties to clubbing. Oh the clubbing. Dressing outrageously younger than my real age but finding a sweet sense of feminine expression on the dance floor!
But most important was the sheer experience of living as a woman for days on end, not just a few hours at night. And it felt grand! Natural! Right! My preferred state of being! And this in a safe environment with outings to "straight" restaurants and the mall. But also the wonder of being in an environment where for a few days WE were the norm!
There were anxious and overwhelming moments in the company of a thousand. Did I truly measure up? But overall the experience was very reaffirming and I came away feeling powerfully that I would be most happy and fulfilled if I could somehow manage to live my life as much as possible as a female. Some form of semi-transition. One that I would grope towards and define for myself. Using transition as an aspiration, perhaps to be attained or perhaps not, but one that set a goal towards which I could take small steps. But doing so slowly and joyously, pausing to savor and enjoy each one.
I didn't begin to have an explanation of these feelings. I have never heard of a TG who truly did (even if some thought they did). All I knew was that whatever the cause, the feeling was just there and very powerful. And I fully accepted it. I even welcomed it as it expanded my world, my sense of self, and my desire of exploration as I lived my life to the full. I had discontinued the fool's errand of looking for a cause years ago. It just didn't matter.
There was so much joy in this. Women's lives seemed more interesting, complete, and expressive in so many ways. Men could be that also – and a precious some were! – but social conventions held them back from expressing it. Or maybe too many of these guys really were more drab, unimaginative. and narrowly-focused.
Hang around with the guys, and the conversation was usually limited to sports and such. Or politics, which could get very contentious and uncomfortable in the law firm environment. Nothing wrong with these topics, but there is just so much more! Dare mention a wonderful piece of music or art in such a testosterone-rich environment, and I know I'd get incredulous stares. Who the hell needs that! So I'd wear my mask ... "How 'bout them Cardinals!", as it were a matter of life or death!
Not that I didn't have some treasured friends who could delve into other and deeper topics, but they were not the usual fare. I don't want it to come off as a complete wasteland, but a partial wasteland is still irksome!
But the sad reality of my life was that for 40 plus years, I much more often than not felt out of place and uncomfortable. Striving to hide myself and fearful that some unthinking gesture or comment would give myself away. Living with deep feelings of isolation and alienation – years of counseling – years of self-reproach before a sense of self-acceptance.
But self-acceptance is a dual edged sword ... once found, what the hell does one do with it? How to live one's life in an unaccepting world? How much risk in going out is too much risk? What is the emotional cost of living completely in the closet? How to achieve some sense of balance as one endeavors to live life in dual genders, one of which appears to be growing in strength, wonder, allure and the gift of self-expression? How to cope with my need for genuineness and expression with my family's need for emotional and financial stability? Huge fucking questions!
Sorry gentle reader, but no other word would begin express the intense emotional turmoil that I was feeling.
Oppps again ... the narrative awaits! My frizzy mind doth wander!
For a lark I also went to the job expo at that first SCC. Who would want to hire an openly transgendered attorney at the mid-point of my her career and without a portable "book" of clients? But wonder of wonders, a highly-reputed large firm based in Chicago with regional offices throughout the midwest and beyond held itself out as being very trans-friendly.
It was not a formal job interview, but the firm reps who were there seemed to appreciate my talent and encouraged me to consider a change, if and when ready. If I wanted to pursue it, this was unlikely to involve a partnership position as I currently had. Therefore, the money would be less. But the thought of no longer hiding myself and being in a new environment was a very powerful and alluring thought!
Independent of this, Gloria and I had many soul-searching conversations. The kids were entering early adulthood. Bryan was then 18 and Cecilia, 16 (and way more mature than that!). They were doing well and firmly on the launching pad. Revealing myself to them was an uneven experience, and there were difficult emotional gyrations on their part as they struggled with the concept that their Dad longed to live a big part of "his" life as a woman. Maybe all of it, Carl had to admit, although that was what was still in the exploratory stage. But they had at least accepted the reality of it, even if it was not what they longed for in a family environment.
Gloria and I had almost reached the point of agreeing that I should make this journey as separated, and we would do our utmost to remain supportive and friendly. It sounds very sweet and nice, but was darned difficult emotionally, logistically and financially. There were inevitable moments of tears, hurt, and anger.
And especially painful, we both discussed the prospect that each would be free to find whatever romance we could find.
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Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests. –Bill (oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com)
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