A journey to San Francisco to become no less than Me. (BLOG REBOOT: Former site of Hairy Legs.)

Archive for the ‘Sexual Orientation’ Category

I’m losing it.

At the time I’m writing this sentence, I’m losing my conviction that any of this is worth it.

I know I’m just falling through a slump, and the second I even begin to question whether losing the respect and friendship of everyone I love is worth the chance to become something that’s true to myself and everyone else- the second I even begin to weigh the consequences against the outcome-  I feel ashamed for thinking I could ever find it in me to continue living out this lie just to make the rest of my life a little easier.  And even that’s a joke.  How could it be “easier” to accept the wrong moniker bestowed on me by the rest of the world for the rest of my life?  Every time the wrong pronoun hits my ears, I have to control myself- not storm out, hit people, break things, shake, yell, cry or even grimace.  It’s a personal battle because betraying how hurt I am by people’s mistakes leads to things I’d rather not deal with as I stand.  But by staying here, I’m putting a blindfold on the eyes of the world to me and letting them walk over me, and they’re not even realizing they’re killing me piece by piece.  I want people to see me and I’m tired of being seen as someone I’m not.

But every day since I’ve been coming out to my friends, they’ve seemed subconsciously determined to remind me I’m still on the wrong side of the fence, and also pretty determined to let me know that’s where they think I belong.  It’s all slow going, and nobody’s catching on all that well.

The funny thing is, I’m feeling more comfortable with myself now than I’ve been in a long time.  A lot of things are shaking apart as my mind rearranges itself and my perception shifts violently every day, but everything is rebuilding from a base of truth and fact instead of theory and guesswork, and I’m happy with it.  To reiterate, I feel more like a gay boy than anything.  This, I’ve found, is ironically putting me in touch with my feminine side.  My boyfriend said he thinks I’ve actually been wearing more frou-frou clothing since I affirmed to him that I’m male, which is an interesting commentary in and of itself.  To me, it says that, as a gay boy, I don’t much mind working with what I’ve got sometimes if I can make it attractive, but it’s generally for show and/or convenience.  It’s really not “me” as much as my more male clothing, but since it’s there and it’s clean and I really need to do my laundry, I don’t mind using it; I’m confident enough in my state as a male that I don’t feel my clothing defines that.

My problem isn’t my confidence in myself, it’s the disconnect between how others relate to me and what I really am.  Now that it’s in question and people are starting to double take and try to see me as what I’m demanding, it seems like they’re shaking their heads in confusion and sticking with what they know, and it’s making me feel like shit.  I think it can actually be harder when you’re beyond the shadow of a doubt of what you believe in and people deny it.

I have yet to even begin to explain what all of this entails to my dad, and he’s already rejecting it without even really knowing what it is.  When I said in my first post he was beginning to use the name “Jack”, it was because he was finally beginning to acknowledge my DID and the differentiation between alters.  He knew Jack was there without him even having to specify, and that’s always a big moment with an alter.  He was glowing when his own father called him by his name without even being asked.  But dad doesn’t even know about the gender dysphoria, let alone that Jack wanted a sex change, let ALONE that we’re now integrating and it’s basically down to, simply, I want a sex change.  I don’t know how he’s going to get through all this, but he didn’t take the news of integration well when I tried to explain that the end product would probably look more like Jack than me.  He’s a pretty fast study, though.  When I told him I didn’t want anyone going through my mail because I’d be dealing with some personal medical issues, he said, “You’re not getting a sex change, are you?”

My instinctual response was “NO,” because, one, that’s not exactly happening yet, and two, we’re just not ready for that talk yet, not candidly.  But I think he’s catching on.  Who knows?  Maybe he’ll take it better than I think.  But for now, I have to believe that he stands entirely against the idea, and once again, there’s a rift of communication between myself and one of the most important people in my life.  I don’t like having to hide such a huge thing from someone so close to me just to keep the peace, but there it is, a giant purple elephant in the room every time we talk.

Anyway, tl;dr version:

Gender dysphoria sucks ASS.

Ever heard that one joke?

The one that goes, “I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body, but that man is gay, so nobody ever really noticed.”

Used to get a real kick out of that joke, mainly because it sort of applied to me.  But as time goes on, and you’re not a 14 year old anymore, and you start to grow up and figure yourself out, you really start to realize the difference between SEXUAL ORIENTATION and GENDER IDENTITY.

That joke hasn’t been funny in years, because I realized just how fucking wrong it was.

You’d think it was, but being a gay man in a woman’s body isn’t really that much of a blessing, especially when you’re a bear.  In fact, it makes things a lot more complicated, particularly when you’re trying to come off as male to people who DON’T really differentiate gender and orientation.

I love dominating men.  Women are a piece of cake most of the time, but when you put yourself on top of what should be macho, you feel like king of the world.

I guess I happen to be with a guy right now.  Now, he does love to crossdress, and he loves to be on bottom, so he’s really the one wearing the skirt in the relationship, but he ultimately identifies as a male.  My god, though, he’s so perfect.  The first time he ever met me, and I told him straight exactly what was going on in my life, he just pretty much shrugged and said “I’m good with that.”  He never questions, never second-guesses, always trusts, and he GETS it.  I will never find a better match.

My main problem is my dad.  Getting him to see me as male has been really fucking hard, and I get that feeling that if he knew I was with a guy, everything I’ve built with him would crumble and he’d just think, “Well, there’s no point in saying ‘she’s’ a guy since ‘she’s’ STRAIGHT.”  So my life partner has been my “best friend” ever since my dad’s known him, even though I know it’d probably tickle my dad pink to find out that, even though I’m a “crossdresser,” I’m “straight.”  I don’t think he’ll ever get it.

The truth is, my identity as a male is more important than being seen as gay, straight, or whatever.  Even if it WOULD dissapoint my dad if he thought I was going out with girls, I’d rather him think that if it meant he still saw me as a guy.  But is this wrong?  Hiding my relationship with the most important person in my life from my dad just to prove my credibility?  Does it even matter WHAT my dad thinks of me if he still isn’t seeing the whole truth, if I’m still hiding?

The other night, before my parents left for Kentucky, we had a family dinner and my babe was here.  It’s the worst thing in the world when you turn and, without hardly thinking about it, go in for a kiss, then stop just inches from his face.  Time slows, eyes locked, and you have to look away, not just to hide your love from those who might tear it down, but to hide your shame from your lover that you even consider it something you have to hide at all.  I could feel his hurt, and it hurt me, too.  Why should I be afraid of being seen as gay if I’m already a fuck-up in my parent’s eyes, anyway?

“I heard a joke once.  Man goes to doctor.  Says he’s depressed.  Says life is harsh and cruel.  Says he feels all alone in a threatening world.  Doctor says, ‘Treatment is simple.  The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight.  Go see him.  That should pick you up.’  Man bursts into tears.  Says, ‘But doctor… I am Pagliacci.’  Good joke.  Everybody laughs.  Roll on snare drum. Curtains.”


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