Before I was so rudely interrupted by a nasty virus as well as the unwelcome Period Beast (see previous post), I was working on this post. This was originally supposed to at least partially be about how I've been feeling better in my body, yet in these past couple weeks, that enormous positivity I had regarding such things has been lost and is just now resurfacing. In fact, I've been struggling with not only dysphoria, but feelings of worthlessness that are in no way tied to my being trans (Because, you know, my life isn't just being trans after all. That just happens to be what I blog about most). Despite all that, I'm going to attempt to pick up where I left off here.
So, as the title implies, selfies. I am just as guilty as anybody of taking selfies. I rarely share them, but I have a ridiculous amount of them stocked up. You wouldn't know this by looking at my social media. Not only do I hate sharing pictures, but after I first came out, I purged my Facebook and Instagram as well. Many times I take these pictures fully intending to share them (to update a profile pic, usually), but inevitably, I hate the picture and either delete it or file it away. I've been doing this for years. I mean, when I say I have them stocked up, I'm not even kidding. As much as I dislike these pictures, you think I wouldn't have held onto them right? Yet, there they are in the cloud, deep in the pictures section in a folder marked "me." Though, I can hardly say any of these pictures truly reflect me.
Every so often I go back and look at these pictures. I'm not sure why. All it does it make me uncomfortable. Before I realized I was trans, I would look at them and not understand this discomfort. Now, I get it's because I'm looking at a person who isn't me. I see this girl that I was trying so hard to be, the ultimate character I ever played. I see the phases in style, especially hair color, as I searched endlessly for the winning combination in outward appearance that would make me feel good about myself. I don't even have to go far. I look back to a year ago, two years ago, and I'm hit with an overwhelming amount of emotion. I can see the sadness in my eyes. I can remember the exact moment taking that picture and how unhappy I was. I can literally place myself back in that slice of time and remember how dissatisfied I would feel looking at those pictures right after taking them - or even while I was taking them for that matter. I felt fake, like I was trying too hard, like that wasn't me.
I look back now with the knowledge I've gained about myself, and it's so weird. I don't recognize that person. It's kind of funny, now that I see a stranger in these photos, for the first time I recognize a beauty I never saw before. Yes I was beautiful, but I never felt that way. And when I notice that beauty, when I find myself seeing it, I also feel a certain sadness. I know there are parts of me that mourn for that girl. At times, I feel downright guilty for wanting to destroy her. Why couldn't I be happy as her? Why couldn't I make it work? I tried so fucking hard to be her, and it took separating myself from that person to finally understand how hard I was trying and how much worse it was making me feel.
So if it hits me so hard, why do I look at these pictures? Before I knew what it was, I did it to try and force myself to see some beauty in me. I would look at them and say, "Sam, you look great. Why can't you be happy in your skin?" Now I look back to remind myself why I can't go back just because transitioning is scary. It's easy for my brain to tell me that this is too much for me, that I'll never get where I want to be, especially when the Period Beast hits. I mean, I was getting much better at not letting it do that, reminding myself to be patient. It's when the bitch that I discussed in my last post gets into my head that I get fucked over. In the past couple weeks, I have felt so hopeless about a lot of things not just transition related, mostly just related to me as a human being. Lets just say no matter what I do, the self hatred goes from a five to a twenty whenever the cycle comes around. Anyway, back to selfies... that was the point of this post, right?
Since I started transitioning, the amount of pictures I take and hold onto has increased. Not that the amount I share has increased by much. Still, it helps to have these pictures on deck. It's true that you don't notice the subtle changes unless you have a side by side comparison to really stare at. So, every week or two, I make myself a side by side and look at it a while to remind myself that progress is happening. It's actually quite helpful. Not that I've felt like sharing it with anyone. The only person who has seen any of these is my sister and I think she's seen one. A month or two ago. I feel awkward sharing pictures of me, especially of my transition. It's not weird to share. You go to Instagram, and there are so many guys sharing their story through pictures. It's inspiring when they do it. Me, I'd rather share a picture of the mountains. But I still take pictures of me for me, that never stops.
I guess you could say one reason I don't share pictures as much is because I'm afraid of being reminded of the slow progress, of people not seeing what I see. I mean, every day I see the person inside a little more and even when I don't see him I *feel* him. That still seems to be just me (and maybe some people close to me). At work, people still see me as this girl. At the store. In passing. I start to wonder if I've really made as much progress as I've thought. I know I have, but it's so hard to see it. It gets me down, I'm not gunna lie. It's easier said than done, but I am working on not letting other people define my happiness. I mean, just because I don't pass doesn't make me any less trans, any less of the guy I know I am. The hardest part is remembering that. And it's the selfies that are integral in being that reminder.
So, even if the pictures aren't exactly what I want to see just yet, the seemingly neverending quest for the selfie that truly reflects Samuel continues. He'll show up eventually. Just gotta be patient, trust the process, and most importantly, keep in mind that it isn't passing that makes me a man.
To truly end this post, I'm going to do something that makes me more than a little uncomfortable. Here come the selfies… Maybe you see what I see, maybe you don't. Want to know what I see? I see fake smiles in the first group, sad memories, discomfort, but ever so slowly, I see a certain happiness begin to grow in the second group. It's that happiness that I've been searching for, and as time goes on, I look forward to watching it grow.
