Just Thinking…

It has been some time since I was able to comfortably move words from my heart to the screen, (or paper). I cannot explain why this has been an issue but I am going to try and overcome it with this post.

There have been many times when I have closed my eyes to find myself looking into darkness. My ears filled with static. My heart feels weighed down and tears come without rhyme or reason. After all this time and having gone through so much, I might have thought things would be different. Then again I have always been a dreamer, hoping for a better outcome than I know to be possible. 

This holiday season has brought this home with jarring clarity. Until Saturday, which was our family gathering, I had gone weeks without being myself in the real world… I was, once again, at a point of questioning everything. Myself. Who I am… what I am. Wondering if it has been worth the personal cost to fight to be seen as I truly am when the whole world seems determined to keep me locked in a box.

Maybe I’ve simply grown tired. Exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically; knowing giving up would come with a high price but also the promise of becoming numb.

When I take the time to reflect, it comes to mind much of this may be the result of looking outside to find permission to be. Content only when I find it pleases others. If my words or actions seem to distress someone close to me I immediately begin to doubt. To second guess, even to insist on punishing myself for not being who they wish me to be, for causing them pain or discomfort by my mere existence. This is a serious issue when I am faced by people who are not comfortable seeing me as Kira in the flesh as opposed to some imaginary state. People who cannot bring themselves to use my name, who refuse to look me in the eye or even touch me. I am surrounded by this nearly every moment of every day except for those few short hours when the house is empty or I am sleeping and even then I cannot completely escape.

This was and is my reality this holiday season when no one has been unkind yet not friendly either. I was in a house full of people yet at times I felt I was only a reminder of someone who had passed beyond their reach or understanding. A ghost.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, I really cannot say. Yet at the same time I cannot deny the reality of my feelings and because of them I have thought more than once of giving up. To smile shyly and say it was all a misunderstanding. I never thought myself to be other than what they see…

Because then only I would bear the pain I see in their eyes.

6 thoughts on “Just Thinking…

  1. Oh dear … This is such a sad post. My heart aches for you.
    And yet you’ve put your finger on something I know to be true about myself. I’ve connected with a lot of trans people this year online. Maybe I wouldn’t have tried if I met them in a cafe or on a train.
    Still, my discomfort is my problem. No one else’s. I can’t imagine what it’s like waiting for the world to change. I can hear that you’re tired. Still, you’re one of the truly brave ones. And your blog is truly marvellous. Thankyou for all you do xxxx

  2. An amazing post post of struggles. Many of us do things to fit into the “normal” during the holidays. Hiding and smiling the smile of despair. I feel your pain in many ways. Giving up sometimes seems to be the answer. I don’t think it is. Hold up your chin dear, push through the darkness and the light isn’t that far away.

  3. *

    I apologise that the best I can do is empathise from a distance and try to comprehend your anxieties. I never – NEVER – had the self-doubts as I read you and others at the numerous web-sites, blogs, and posts.


    I had a similar experience as you commented to your current post. I was concluding a fantastic year of my life, yet no one of my disintegrated family in a rare gathering (Christmas especially) that would never happen again was the least bit interested in my good news up-date; I felt alone among strangers rather than welcomed as family. They were that ‘house full of people’, but no one was home. Both parents have since died without knowing my whole story; I told it to my sister last year.

    There is no apology for being your true self.


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