Hello World

November 9, 2010 at 6:41 am Leave a comment

As I grow more comfortable with my gender identity, and my body, I feel compelled to tell my story to those who will listen. It’s a way of declaring to the world: I exist. I am here. I am present. Life is, in a way, about expressing oneself; of allowing oneself to simply be, like a rose or a tree or a bird or a stone. It’s not always safe to be in this world. There are predators out there, poised to jump on vulnerabilities. We carry with us wounds and scars from life’s battles. We learn by falling, then getting up and carrying on. It’s not always fun but it should, at least, be interesting — if we open our eyes and see.

My life, at times, feels surreal — like I walked out of a Salvador Dali painting before all the paint had a chance to dry. Things, objects, ideas, they shift and move as I move. I see only what my vantage point allows; and my vantage point is constantly changing. Sometimes, oftentimes, I feel like a foreigner in my own skin; an alien who woke up one day and found himself/herself/theirself staring out of human eyesockets like in that TV show Third Rock From The Sun. I ask myself who am I? And I realize that there is no one answer.

When I was a child I used to have this dream of falling off the face of the earth and falling into space. Falling, or flying, depending on your perspective. The dream would terrify me because it felt like I had nothing holding me down, keeping me in place. How do you orient yourself when you have no centre, no anchor to guide you through the swamp that is the universe?

All things being relative we must, in some way, become centres to ourselves. Sometimes I feel like I contain the entire universe inside me and it’s only my skin keeping me from dissolving into the space around me. Energy trapped within a thin membrane that can and will fall away at any moment. But this membrane, this skin, it breathes. It lets in the universe and lets it out again, it breathes through me and carries me on through this life.

But lets not get carried away.

Then I wake up and I crash into the murky reality of my life. The routine of it: the 9 to 5 job (more or less), the having-to-make-my-bed-every-morning and the clean-the-toilet every weekend. The doing-the-laundry mundanity of what it means to be alive here, now, today, in this world, this city, on this street. How to reconcile these two experiences of life?

My life is a combination of the sacred and the profane. My farts and belches stand side by side with the thrill of seeing a sunset or the haunting beauty of a favourite melody.

Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me: it sucks away the majesty of my existence and leaves me standing in a fog of doubt and depression. When that happens I need to remind myself to take a step — it doesn’t even matter in what direction — so I can see again. There is beauty in this world. I am beautiful. And yes, I exist.

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Entry filed under: Mental Health, Spirituality, Transgender.

The Unusual Man Being True

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