There are points in our lives where we must take the plunge, the one that will change everything. It's horrible and terrifying and beautiful. Hope and fear collide together in a mish mash as you realize you can go on as you are, potentially only to crumble and lose yourself, or you can jump headfirst into the unknown. As the dark abyss swallows you up, as you descend into that which you cannot predict - something that could turn out wonderful or a disaster - there's a moment of panic, a final moment of, "Did I really make the right decision?" Then everything changes. Then you move forward.
Transitioning has been the best decision I have made in my life, it has also been the most intense. You can prepare youeself all you want for what's about to happen, read as many articles about the changes that may come, etc, etc; but until you really live it, until you burst out with the truth, even though you've already assured yourself that however much you do or don't change, nothing willl ever be the same, you don't realize quite what you've gotten yourself into.
The last year and a half has been a whirlwind. I never could have expected all that has happened. There have been a few defeats but many more triumphs. As it goes, I am extremely lucky. I have met nothing but support, and even the support that doesn't feel like it (the people I have come out to who still care about me but ignore the gender I prefer) is support to some degree. Each day is a new learning experience, a new challenge as I learn to balance the weight of this transition with everything else in life.
I still have days where dysphoria wants to take me out. That will not quiet easily. It sucks me down the rabbit hole and it's hard to pull myself back to the light. Accompanied by a mixture of joy and defeat depending on what I get called at work, it's a lot for the brain to handle. I'm trying to work on caring less about what others perceive of me. If I can stop thinking about that, I will be better off.
Already, I've taken steps to wear my binder less. Save myself some pain and fuck what people think. I still can get gendered correctly binderless and nothing feels better than that. I haven't yet been brave enough to ditch the binder for work (I run around a lot there, which means there's a high chance of "jiggling" if you know what I mean). I have been able to get myself to take it off before play practice though. There is such support and caring there, I feel comfotable being free. Not only that but practice is always after work and those 12 hour binder days need to be behind me. That is BAD. If you are a transman and reading this, please, do not wear your binder that long. It's not good for you. After almost two years of wearing it consistently 5 days a week, 9-12 hours a day, my back is tired. My ribs get sore sometimes (that usually prompts me to immediately shed the binder unless its the middle of the work day). I wish it were easier to take it off. I dont know why it's easier to choose having the feeling of a rock on my chest, more effort to breathe, than to not have a flat chest. The dysphoria is worse somehow. It's hard to explain.
There are many hard decisions. Similarly, there's the struggle of balancing the past with the present. There is so much of my past that I don't like to think about or acknowledge because it outs me. It makes me sad. These things happened, they were done by me, but a slightly different me. Admitting I'm that person to people who don't know that person can be painful. It could change everything. Or at least that's what goes through my head.
Take my theatre history for example. Up until the end of 2016 I had played primarily female roles. I had managed to get a few male roles when I was younger cause it doesn't matter as much in middle and high school. Boys never tried out enough. They casted with what they had. Still, going for and being put in femlae roles was the norm. I hadn't admitted what it was that was wrong with me to myself yet (being trans, I mean. Not something wrong persay, that's not the best way to put it, but all through my younger years, I felt like something was wrong but couldn't explain what it was). So, I have all this experience, all these memories from past productions that I'm afraid to share. Why would I want to share the princess experience of playing Cinderella in Into the Woods when the last thing I want to explain in why the heck I was in that female role. I like to assume people gender me correctly at first sight. It's happening a lot more anyway. So, I dont want to say, "Oh, I played this girl part," and have the person go, "I thought you were a guy... are you a girl?" I need to let go of the fear but that still doesn't mean I want to offer up the info. It makes me straight up dysphoric. Merchant of Venice was brought up the other day, including my role as Nerissa. The thought of myself in that red dress, all I was feeling at that time, made me sick. It made me confused and sad. How am I supposed to balance these things? Do I really want to ignore all my past? No. I don't. Its all so hard to reconcile.
I'm thankful that I can go forward with male roles at least. This year's role has me twice as pumped as last year. Also my bio for the program really hammers home that "he" pronoun thing. Maybe that will help come people clue in.
This post feels very ramble-y, but I guess thats how I've been feeling. It's been a strange mixture of highs and lows. I don't want you to think it's all bad. I just got back from my second year at High Sierra Music Festival, procured a new car that should last me forever, and I'm immersed in what I think is one of my favorite roles yet. I'm kicking butt at work despite how stressed it's got me, and things are looking up there considering we just hired two new people. (A lot has happened since the last time I complained about work, but that's a discussion for another day.)
All in all, despite the fears that try to being me down, as I've said before, I've gotta keep asking myself, "What's right?" Another good one to keep in mind, is the line Neal keeps reminding of from one of the songs The String Cheese Incident played at the festival, "It is what it is."
