I'm Too Alone to be Proud

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If you are wondering about the title of this post, or worried that I am lonely (don't be, I am no lonelier tan anyone else). It is a line from one of Tom Petty’s best tunes “You Don’t Know How it Feels.” I heard it on the radio today (originally written on May14, 2017) and before I could do my usual quick change when Tom Petty starts (I love(d) Tom Petty and the Heart breakers, but as the ex-wife’s favorite band I - sadly - still have some trouble listening to him/them). But this time my attention peaked and I waited for the last lines of the chorus and sang/screamed along as loud as I could “ You don't know how it feels -NO! You don't know how it feels to be me.” It started me thinking that you dont know how it feels to be me, nor I you, but if we could attempt to understand how it might feel to walk in the shoes of one another, maybe we could more easily love each other without judgement (that kind of love - although most try very hard -  is very, very rare and so hard to find).  hope that the ramblings this paragraph precedes can provide a small understanding of how it feels to be me and, more importantly, I hope this can open some more hearts and "normalize" your perceptions of trans people. So, let me run with you tonight, and I'll take you on a moonlight ride . . .

For far too long it feels so uncomfortable, trapped, alone because no one knows. It is as if you are in the middle seat on an airline that was made for hobbits, and you just do not fit, very uncomfortable for a regular sized human. You protested upon arrival that you were a human not a hobbit, but you were scolded and reprimanded before being told to act like a hobbit and never say you were human again. The discomfort has gone on too long and there is no arrival time, not ever. So, it feels like, at the time it did, that the best way to escape the discomfort is to medicate, until that stops working , then it feels like a great idea to jump out of the plane.

Almost immediately after that does not work, it feels like it was a bad idea and something you might want to work to prevent others from doing. But the discomfort hasn't stopped, it isn't going to unless you take a step to the front and as some others have done demand to be treated like and accepted as the human you are. It has always felt like there would/will be serious repercussions for this. You make a decision, the only decision about your humanity (or your gender if you haven't caught on) that you make, I mean you didn't decide to be human, why would you when you feel so afraid of how you will be treated or mistreated and judged for being human. No, you didn't decide that you were human, you always were. You just decided to stop pretending to be a hobbit so that you might not feel like jumping out of a plane again. 

It feels, as you first begin to tell others your oldest, deepest, and most closely guarded secret, more terrifying than you ever imagined and so much more terrifying than words have the power to describe. When the second person you tell, the person you are supposed to be able to count on most (she was at the time), says you are a liar for not telling your secret sooner and then tells your secret to other people without your approval or even knowledge, it honestly feels like a combination of the deepest sorrow and most fiery rage inside you have procreated. It feels confusing, it feels like it is the end of your time with that person, and it feels like nothing can fix the damage done. (It still feels like this and feels like it always will). 

As you tell more of the other people on whom you can supposedly rely, and they react differently, saying “ok, I still love you, be yourself,” the feeling of terror (about telling people) diminishes and a feeling of liberation when telling people takes over. It feels like if you dont watch yourself you'll begin to tell anyone who will listen. Still, it frequently feels like the beginning of a panic attack (something you have felt or haven't, explanations are insufficient) when you think about telling certain people, people you know are going to judge you and abandon you, and atypically, it feels good to be wrong about the few of those you are. It feels almost indescribably crushing to be wrong in the other way - to be abandoned by people you never thought would do that, people you thought loved you, people you will sadly find out, do not love you, but only loved an image of you created by the Pretender (the Pretender is how I have begun to refer to myself while I was pretending to be male). But, . . .

  It feels like that first time you were stung by a bee or wasp when the two (in my case it is two) who you knew would stand by you no matter what, both of whom you call brother (importantly it is call and not called - this is subject to change, see the next blog post/Facebook note), do not stand by you, but turn away from you - abandonment, so this is how it feels - it is very rarely anger, but when it is it is a white hot rage more powerful than you have ever felt, but that rage typically lasts mere seconds before the tears start to well and the world becomes blurry, just as the screen these words appear on is beginning to do. . . 

It feels worse to lose your oldest friend, the only other person who can truly understand some of the pain you have felt throughout this life, the one person you were certain would always have your back . . . it feels so much worse than you could ever have fucking imagined, and to add to the indescribable emotional pain, it also means you lost his son - that part feels like you are starting to sob as you type the words( even when you are revising weeks later), because thinking about that loss makes you sob every fucking time ____ there is nothing with as much heartache as losing them this father and son, the most important people in your world, the other person from the above paragraph is absolutely nothing in comparison, and you lost them only because you must be you, but you know you cannot continue to pretend, you have to be you to stay alive - its not bravery its just necessity - Still,  it feels like there is a hole in your soul or your essence, not just a hole in your heart, but a hole in the very fabric of everything around you and inside you - if you think about this loss too long it feels like it would have been easier if that metaphorical jump from the  plane would have worked as intended. It feels like time to stop writing again until the tears do. 

***The above paragraph made me cry as much or more while revising this post two weeks later as it did when I originally typed it out. No one can ever know how that feels, no fucking words can ever acurtley describe it. ***

Still, overall and the majority of the time, it feels like the prison doors were opened and you have been liberated. It does feel like only some people see it that way with you. It feels like this was a good place to start over. the original post (if you want to read it, message me) turns angry at this point, turns into another rant, and although that is often how it feels, most of my readers are well aware of that feeling. So, I'll try to be more insightful and less inciting. 

It does feel like liberation; it feels like this must be what Nelson Mandela (stretch or not) moot have felt when he was finally set free. It feels so much more comfortable than any of the masculine hats (paragraph 6 of the linked blog post) I ever tried on. It finally feels like this fits. Life is so much the opposite of perfect, but facing the problems you have as yourself, not the Pretender, now that is a good feeling. It is beginning to feel natural. I am beginning to feel pretty, and that is something I truly never though I would ever get to feel in this life (happy tears for that). It has started to feel like Livi belongs in the world, and I know it feels like this is sickeningly too positive and upbeat for me. Never fear, there will be plenty of angry posts, and I will not apologize for recording/documenting the way the shitty people make me feel, but . . . since we all face them for one reason, one label they give us, or another . . .

It all to often feels that shitty excuses for human beings consist of the majority of the world. It is going to feel this way at times, it will feel this way for all of us, but it feels like this is important to say over and over and over: the judgemental assholes, the bigots, the bullies (feel free to apply those labels to people you have to deal with) are far outnumbered by the decent people of the world. The assholes are simply louder in public. It fees appropriate to mention a group of the good ones . . . 

One of my English Comp students from long days gone,  Alexis Mars, invited me to join a Facebook group called the Beauty Room, a closed group where all things beauty are discussed. I am not sure how long I was a member before I asked for advice, or paid attention,  but the night I posted a selfie and asked for tips was, I made a good decision. My look has totally changed, and yes that is based on the tips and  techniques I have learned form other members, but that is not the real reason my look has changed. In the Beauty Room, I am one of the girls, and the roomies help reinforce that, I need that in my life. None of the girls in the Beauty Room judge me, or the ones who do stay quiet about it. It is a place that feels safe, even a virtual place can feel safe. I have made several new friends through the group, and one of them is already one of the two people I can tell everything. I already had that with Becca (I am certain I could tell any of my close nit friend group everything, but it is my hangups that keep me from doing so, and they are almost all guys), and now I also have Tempie, who I am still surprised did not run screaming from the level of TMI I dished out while we talked the first time, but I was honest and got acceptance and friendship. 

It really has begun to feel normal being myself, Olivia (Livi to many), and it feels like I need to keep writing and posting selfies, and making sure to take a stand when needed so that other girls and the next generation are treated with the same respect as everyone else. The feeling is still frequently that of anger toward stupidity and mean-spiritedness. But it now feels less about who I am and more about who the haters are. It feels good to get hit on, and it feels like I am finally alive. It also feels like I do have a purpose. I will continue to unapologetically be a non-believer (in a religious sense) who offers to respect your religious views if you respect hers, but I do feel like I have a purpose. I'm not going to say there is a reason I lived through my suicide, because I dont believe that. But, I do believe that I must take this second chance and use it to, first ensure that I am happy, and second, work, fight when necessary, to build an acceptance and understanding of girls like me. It feels like that  is going to be my new career path, but it also feels like being lost without a map (how do I get there?).

Among the compliments I have received recently, there are two I am still not sure I can accept, but it feels good to hear them. I am frequently complimented for being brave. I dont think I am brave. Soldiers are brave, the first responders at ground zero they defined brave. I am selfishly living life for me in order to stay alive. It does take some courage to go certain places, and I sincerely thank those of you who disagree with me, but I am not brave like the people I mentioned. It feels so scary most of the time,   I am very honored that some see me as a role model, but even though Tempie keeps telling me they are not wrong, it feels like I am simply being myself, not brave not modeling any roles, just living my truth. Besides, I am not sure I make a good role model; I ma as broken as the next person. Still, I am happy people think it because it feels really good (and sometimes, but not nearly often enough, replaces the heartache I carry or drag around for the father and son I wrote of earlier) it actually feels wonderful to have the support, love, and encouragement of so many, and it feels really good to write this shit down and hope my ramblings on help you understand, even just a little bit what it is like to be me, or maybe that other trans woman you see at the grocery store. I am certain if you said something nice to her, or even just gave her a friendly smile, it would be a pleasant change. 

So let's get to the point, let's roll another joint Let's head on down the road There's somewhere I gotta go And you don't know how it feels No, well maybe a little better than before, you don't know how it feels to be me 

XoXo ~Livi