Exhausted

Lately I feel so exhausted from dealing with my life.  I live very close to where I grew up and went to college so there are a lot of people around here that have known me a long time.  In some cases, they’ve known me most of my life.  Most of these people I do not consider friends, but acquaintances from the past.  Yet, I find myself hiding from these people and constantly worried that I’m going to bump into someone that I used to know every day.  Last month, two women I went to high school with decided to have lunch at the restaurant that is two doors down from where I work and they called my shop and asked to speak to me.  I told my employee to take a message.  The message was that they were two doors down and would like to see me.  Great, I thought, just what I wanted to do, go have lunch with two people I used to know 35 years ago who were never really good friends to begin with.  I hid in my office and didn’t go.  My mind went to thoughts that they just wanted to lurk and poke at the trans “friend” from high school to fulfill their own curiosity about me and my transition.  I couldn’t deal with that and the questions they might ask.  One of the women is very direct and I was pretty sure she would try to dig into what I consider private space in my head and I just didn’t feel like being probed.  I know they’re hurt and disappointed but seriously, I was at WORK people!!  If you want to have lunch with me why can’t you try to arrange that ahead of time and not surprise me at my place of business and sort of ambush me into eating pizza with you to satisfy your own curiosity.  No thanks.  This all happened while my brother was in the hospital and that particular day I was only there for a short while before I had to head to the city to go see him and I had a lot to do.  I should have called them and told them I couldn’t take the time to meet but I know those two and they would have pushed me to take 5 minutes (which would have turned into an hour) with them and I just couldn’t do it.  This stuff happens to me quite a bit.  I never know when one of my employees is going to show up in my office and tell me that so and so from high school or college is in the store and wants to see me.  Immediately my blood pressure sky rockets and my palms get sweaty.  I have to steel myself to walk out there and greet them with a smile and act nonchalant about their unplanned and unwelcome visit.  I guess they figure it’s ok to just pop into someone’s work place to say hi.  Personally, I’d call first and make sure it’s ok to pop in because I don’t like being surprised like that.  Anyway, I know people don’t mean any harm but it unnerves me and annoys me and makes work more stressful than it has to be.

My mind tries to work out a solution to this problem.  Every day I fantasize about moving to some place where people don’t know me and starting a new life with a fresh start.  It’s such a strong desire in me lately that it’s actually causing some depression.  I feel like my new self as Shawn is always butting up against Dawn’s past and it’s kind of pissing Shawn off.  It happens all of the time.  I went to the dentist the other day.  They have my new name but the last time I was there I didn’t pass as well as I do now so I was nervous about how they would treat me.  It was fine but the hygienist started out using female pronouns and ended up using male for me at the end.  Why did she switch?  I never said anything about the pronouns either way.  Which leads me to the other question bouncing around in my head these days.  When and how do you decide to disclose that your gender has changed?  Legally, I still have that F on all my records.  I keep dragging my feet about changing it.  It’s the last little step I need to take.

I can’t move though for too many reasons, at least not now.  Maybe in the future we can relocate but it’s just not possible at the moment.  So I think about how I can give Shawn a fresh start without physically moving to a new place.  I could get all new doctors.  I can’t use a different daycare place for my dog though.  I guess those people, since I see them every day, really do need to be told what’s going on with me.  The other day Candace told me that they use she and he pronouns for me and don’t know which one is right anymore.  Did she help me out and tell them for me?  Nope.  So I’ll have to do that.  I could move my business I guess.  I have thought about it many times.  I’ve thought about separating the two major aspects of the business and moving the part I take care of on my own to an undisclosed private location that only my employees know about so that these so-called friends can’t just pop in on me.  The thought of doing all of that is exhausting.  The thought of continuing to go to work and worry about impromptu visitors is exhausting.  The thought of having to disclose to the doggie daycare workers that I’ve transitioned is exhausting.  I don’t want to deal with any of it.  If I were single and unencumbered I would just move and start fresh.  That’s what I want to do and what feels the most refreshing to my spirit.  But I can’t.  I have too many obligations here and Candace can’t so easily just up and move her business.  I’ve even thought about moving to a new area and keeping my business here but coming back once a week to get and return work and take care of any situations that I need to be here to handle.

Like it or not, I guess the bottom line is that I have to buck up and deal with my life.  I can’t run away from it even though every fiber of my being wants me to.  I chose to transition here and now in this place and time and I have to learn to be proud of my transition instead of ashamed or timid about it.  I need to get my gender changed on my IDs and push people, including Candace, to use the proper pronouns for me.  When people refer to me as she it hurts me now in more ways than one.  Yes, it grates on my nerves and frustrates me but it also confuses other people and outs me as trans.  A side note about when strangers realize I’m trans is that they no longer see me as male and revert to female pronouns and honorifics.  Come on people!!!  Do I really look like a ma’am and do I look like I want to be called ma’am?  NO!  I have to try to get that to stop.  In the mean time, I really wish I could just take a really long nap because just thinking about doing all of that has already exhausted me.  All this really does make it clear to me why so many people live stealth and are so concerned with “passing”.  It’s a huge pain in the arse to constantly have to worry about being outed or explain your transition to strangers and acquaintances. It just adds another draining layer on top of a life that is already challenging enough and who needs that?  No one.

Oh The Irony

Most people probably don’t give their high school yearbooks much thought, especially 30 years after they graduated.  But my senior yearbook will always haunt me.  There’s a mystery within its pages that I’ll probably never solve and now, all these years later, the mystery takes on a whole new perspective into the ironic.  The mystery?  Well, in place of my senior picture and placed above my name is a picture of a man sporting a tuxedo and a very nice mustache.  Was this merely a mistake?  Who is the man?  Is he even part of our class?  Was this some vengeful act by someone in the yearbook club?  Is it supposed to be funny or mean?

I’ve thought about that picture often over the years.  I’ve blamed the “mistake” on a girl that was on the yearbook committee that I didn’t particularly like.  I think the feeling was mutual.  I remember the day we got our books and the first thing everyone does is look for their own picture.  I couldn’t believe what I saw in place of mine.  I was pissed off to say the least.  I know mistakes happen in yearbooks all the time.  I’ve seen plenty of them.  But this guy wasn’t even, to mine or any of my friends knowledge, anyone who even attended our school.  That makes it feel intentional and mean.  So I’ve wondered for years who disliked me so much to swap my picture out for some strange man.  It’s a mystery.  Of course the girl claims to not have had any knowledge of it and she’s sticking to her story til death do us part I’m sure.

It occurred to me the other day that it’s actually pretty ironic that there’s a dude’s picture in my place in the yearbook now that I’m transitioning.  Who knew?  Now, if they had just changed the name under it too that would’ve been really helpful.  I wasn’t a bad looking guy.

My class has a reunion every five years and I’ve gone to a couple of them.  I was even on the committee that organized one of them.  Since I live nearby I get roped into stuff like that a lot.  I didn’t attend the last one and I don’t know that I’ll ever go to another.  I stay in contact with the people that matter to me from that chapter of my life.  I don’t enjoy the reunions at all and find them stressful and boring.  Now that I’ve transitioned I feel like it would be way over the top stressful for me to go again.  I just can’t see myself walking into my high school reunion as a man or trying to pretend like I’m still a woman.  I guess this is some unresolved shame I’m holding onto, but I just can’t shake it and if I can’t imagine it I probably won’t do it.  People know I changed my name but for some reason I’m really scared to let them actually meet Shawn now.  I have no problem being myself around my real friends but these quasi acquaintances from the past?  I just feel like all they’ll do is judge me.  Isn’t that what reunions are all about anyway?  Plus, I don’t want to be anyone’s science experiment friend.  I can hear it now.  “Hey, this is my transgendered friend, Shawn!  Isn’t she cute as a guy?  She used to be a girl and now she’s a boy.  Cool, huh?”

No thank you!!

Wardrobe Malfunctions and General Grumpiness

I had one of those mornings today where nothing i put on to wear felt right to me.  Strangely, I had thought those days were long over since I now have the luxury of wearing anything I want.  Apparently they aren’t.  I used to blame my tantrums over my wardrobe on hormones, or my period, or chest dysphoria.   I didn’t want to wear another polo shirt today and I didn’t want to wear jeans.  I’m getting sick of wearing the same old crap day in and day out.  But I work in a shop and I don’t dare to wear anything nice to work either, so I have about 5 black or navy blue polos that I usually wear throughout the week.  It’s pretty boring and I was wanting something different today.  Part of my problem is that I’ve lost weight in the past year and top surgery has made my shirts all much looser than they used to be, so I end up feeling frumpy in even my nicer clothes.  I found a pair of black chinos that I had forgotten I had and put them on.  I couldn’t decide on a shirt.  I must have put on four shirts until I settled on a light blue plaid button up that I used to really enjoy wearing.  It’s way too big now but I tucked it in and it looked a lot better.  I surveyed myself in the full length mirror in my bedroom and decided that it was the best I could do so I proceeded to get myself out of the house.  About a third of the way to work (I have a 20 minute commute), I started getting a panicky anxiety attack about how I looked today and I turned around to go back home.  I made a deal with myself that I’d just get a t shirt to take in case I needed to take the shirt off later in the day.  Once I was home, I ended up changing into one of my better v-neck t shirts and, though I still wasn’t in love with my reflection, I decided to stick with it and go to work.

So what’s the problem?  What did that shirt trigger in me?

What I saw in the mirror looking back at me was an old man.  A grumpy old man.  A fat, grumpy old man.  I have a grumpy resting face.  I wish I didn’t, but I do.  I have a lot of extra skin around my neck from losing weight and it makes me look older than I am.  I don’t love my face like I used to and that upsets me.  I like it better than I did before I lost weight and started T but it’s still a very different face than I used to have for most of my life and I don’t like it as well.  I look in the mirror and don’t really recognize myself anymore.  And I’m not in love with the new look.  Plus, I need a haircut and that always puts me in a grumpy mood.  And my hair is a bone of contention that I’ve been trying to ignore for a while now.  I used to have really nice thick hair and I really liked it.  T has thinned it out and I’m still getting my haircuts from the same lady that did them before I started transitioning.  She does a little clipper work on the bottom and sides now but the top is still styled like it used to be.  I’m not 100% happy with it.

Maybe I’m just in a bad mood today and nothing is going to make me happy.

Maybe it’s the black chinos throwing me out of whack.

Maybe I need to go to a barber and get a proper men’s haircut.

Maybe I need some clothes that fit me properly.

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m still struggling with my identity and when I wear button up shirts it makes me feel like the whole world sees me and that makes me feel naked and vulnerable.

Maybe this is one of those days where I just don’t have it in me to go to work and present as male and deal with that if someone who I haven’t come out to happens to walk in and wants to talk to me.

I’m tired.  I’m tired of thinking about gender all of the time.  I’m tired of not feeling comfortable in my own skin or the clothes I want to wear.  I’m tired of seeing my old, grumpy, sad face reflecting back at me in the mirror.  I want to look younger and happy.  I’m tired of feeling afraid to be out in public in fear of running into someone I used to know before I transitioned and dealing with their shock or having to explain.  I want a fresh start in a new place where I can just be myself and not worry about going about my life.  I want to go to work and do my job without the fear of some old “friend” popping in to say hi and asking for Dawn.  I’m tired of being ashamed of myself and living in fear.

Maybe it’s just all getting to me today.

 

 

An Epic Journey

I have a little sun room in my house where I like to sit in the morning, sipping coffee while reading or writing on my laptop.  I remember sitting there five years ago feeling desperate, alone, misunderstood, unloved, depressed, tears streaming down my face as I struggled to decide whether to start moving towards transition or not.  My relationship was near ruin and on the brink of breaking apart.  We had just built a beautiful new home that I dearly loved and all I could see was that if I moved forward towards living as male I would lose everything I had built over the past 15 years, including my partner and my pets.  My business was struggling too because I had been ignoring it for the past couple of years due to a vast depressive period I had gone through.  My life was falling apart.  I had escaped into an alternate reality to escape my life and now it was all coming to a head and there was no avoiding reality any longer.

I had to do something.

But I felt boxed in.  Every direction I looked all I saw was loss. All of my options were lose-lose.  Where was the win in any of this?  I couldn’t see any.  My partner had made it plainly clear that if I transitioned than we were done.  And if I transitioned I’d be alone, poor, probably living on a cot in my shop and eating instant mac and cheese if I could even afford that.  And how would I even attempt to transition without any money or health insurance?  This was my rock bottom and it was pretty awful.

I look back at that time now and I’m overwhelmed by how far I’ve come.  How far my family and friends have come.  How far my relationship and my business have come.  I still have my partner, my pets, my home and my business.  All are thriving.  And me?  I’m living as a man.  Sure, my partner still calls me she, but we’re working on that.  Or we will be soon.

How did I get here?  Well, my partner and I separated for a few months and slowly started “dating” each other again.  I started seeing a gender therapist who sent me to an endocrinologist for hormones who also checked other things and found that my thyroid levels were very low.  So I started taking thyroid pills two weeks before I started taking a low dose of T (androgel).  Remarkably, the thyroid pills made me feel better immediately.  My mood lifted significantly from that alone.  And then I added the T in and my outlook on life shifted 180 degrees.  In my darkest hours, alone, separated from my family, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was all going to work out somehow.  I had no idea how, but I was 100% convinced that it would.

And the rest, as they say, is history.  My partner and I slowly rebuilt trust and our life together again.  I came out to some close friends.  I changed my name.  I had a hysterectomy and top surgery.  I went from a low dose to a full dose of T (about 2 years ago).  And now, I get called sir at drive-thrus and can walk into the men’s room without anyone batting an eye.  It’s amazing!

But before I got to this point I had to go through what, for me, was the second hardest part of transitioning (first being the initial decision to begin).  And that was being in the muddy middle ground between male and female and nobody, including myself, knowing whether I was a girl or a boy.  I struggled hard with my identity at this point.  I didn’t know who I was anymore.  Every day I could feel my old, female self slipping further and further away and this new, more masculine, awkward person emerging.  I wanted to go hide in a cave until it was over.  It was hard to leave my house and go to work, see people, interact with people I have known a long time.  I felt so naked and self conscious.  Vulnerable.  Raw.  Exposed.  My mask was slipping off and I couldn’t hide it anymore.  My deeper voice and receding hairline were giving it away no matter what clothes I wore.  There was no closet big enough for me to hide in.  I couldn’t just stay home all of the time.  This was not an option.

So, with the knowledge that the only way out was through I made a bold decision to just come out about it to as many people as I could as quickly as possible and stop hiding who Shawn is.  I brought Shawn out into the light of day as boldly as I dared, despite my pounding heart and sweaty, shaking hands.  I stood up naked for all to see and it was terrifying at first.  But no one freaked out (well, maybe one person, but she’s better now) and the sky did not fall in on me.  I still have my partner and home and business and pets.  And now I have more friends that I’ve made through blogging and my connections in the trans community.  I have more support than ever and my relationships are genuine and honest, completely honest, for the first time in my life.  No hiding who I really am anymore.  I’m strong enough now to honestly say to myself that if they don’t really like me enough to accept this about me than I don’t need them in my life.  That, my friends, is a HUGE triumph!  I’m so proud of myself for getting to this point that I feel like I could burst.

Last weekend, Candace’s mom had a commitment ceremony with her boyfriend at the annual family reunion.  She asked me to stand up with Candace and her other daughter’s family with her at the ceremony.  She asked me if I wanted to wear what the other men were going to wear.  Yes!  I was nervous.  I’ve never been in a wedding type ceremony before and the whole family was there to watch and SEE who I am now.  Candace reminded me that no one was going to pay attention to me since this wasn’t about me.  Yeah, right!  They noticed me.  Anyway, I did it and a lot of people told me how great I look and no one made any negative comments to me or Candace.  Were they talking about me in private?  I have NO doubt that they were.  And I’m ok with that.

Changing people’s perceptions of us takes a lot of time, effort and patience.  This is a big ship to turn and it doesn’t happen overnight.  Little by little, slowly, gradually, people  start to acknowledge and appreciate who we have always known ourselves to be.  The first step is always in accepting that yourself.  Bringing that which has been hidden out into the light is both liberating and terrifying.  But, just like with anything new and raw, with enough time, light and air, it starts to feel normal and healthy.  Some of us are braver than others.  I am by far not the bravest person in the world.  Most of the time I’m wrought with anxiety, indecision and self doubt.  Most of this process has been extremely slow and gradual.  Excruciatingly slow and gradual.  But that’s the way I had to do it for my own comfort.  Every so often I put a little bit more of myself out there for the world to see and once I’m comfortable with that I add something else.  Some things are bigger than others, like changing my name.  But some things are as small as wearing a button down shirt instead of a polo to work one day.  Or wearing a binder, or a packer.  Will anyone notice?  Will anyone say anything?  It’s all about testing the waters and finding what’s right for me.  And the process continues.  I’ve been growing out my chin and mustache hair for the past month.  I’m sure people have noticed but no one’s said anything to me.  I’m just laying this on top of all the other coming out layers I’ve already set down in place.  This is anything but methodical, but in a way it is.  It’s about testing the waters and gaining confidence.  Do a little thing and observe.  Do another little thing and observe.  Nothing bad happened so lets do another little thing.  Layer upon layer upon layer upon layer.  Thin, delicious slices like a Smith Island cake*.

smith island cake

Classic Smith Island Cake

Eventually you get something that looks like your true self.  Which is continually evolving and changing anyway, so there’s always new layers being added onto the base of what you previously built.  Cake upon cake.

stacks of cakes

Transition, for me, has been more like a death and a rebirth than a transition.  Dawn was already dying when this all began five years ago.  Shawn emerged from the fire of burning down what was left of her.  I’m a better and much improved version of myself now.  Everyone who knows me can see this.  It’s not only about how I look but how much more open and authentic I am now.  I’m still learning to let my guard down, but I’m a lot less guarded and shielded than I’ve ever been before.  My walls had to come down in order to traverse this path.  I’m more at peace with myself and with life now.   I’m less angry.  I’m more patient.  My anxiety and depression is better.  Life is all about evolving and learning as far as I’m concerned.  Staying stuck and stagnant is certain death for me and that’s where I was five years ago.  I’m so thankful that I woke up when I did and had the courage to move forward into a new, uncertain future in spite of all that I seemingly had to lose to get here.  The journey has been incredible and in some ways, it’s just beginning.

 

*Note:  If you’re curious about the Smith Island cake or Smith Island itself, here are a few links of interest:

http://msa.maryland.gov/msa/mdmanual/01glance/symbols/html/dessert.html

https://smithislandcake.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith_Island,_Maryland

Enough is Enough

Today’s post is a bit of a rant.  I’m actually starting to feel like my old self again, which is good, but I’m also kind of in a grumpy mood today.  I’ve been ruminating about something that was said to me by my brother’s care-taker shortly after I had my top surgery and the more I think about it the more ticked off it makes me.  She told me that he was angry that I had surgery because A) His life sucks and he can’t do anything he wants and I always get to do whatever I want and B) I took this all too far.  It’s part B that ticks me off.  Part A is just typical childishness from a 66 year old boy who has the mental capacity of a thirteen year old.  I’m not being mean (well maybe I am).  It’s the truth though.  Mentally, he is not right and doesn’t function without help.  So why should part B bother me then?

The answer to why it bothers me so much is not that I really care what he thinks.  I don’t.  But the attitude that this is just some kind of bullshit game of dress up and pretend is something that I don’t get just from him but from other people in my life.  I’m not naming names here, but I have heard that I won’t have the guts to do this (transition).  That I never follow through with anything and this is just another thing that I’m using to desperately find happiness.  There are people close to me who still are not using my male pronouns even though I have explicitly asked them to do so.  These people are affecting how other people treat me since they are not leading the way.  They are being supportive in a passive-aggressive kind of way.  Supportive of this, but not of that.  Picking and choosing what they’re comfortable with with little regard to how it makes me feel.

So when my brother says I took this too far, it hurts.  When people who say they love me and support me don’t use my pronouns and still refer to me as a she to strangers and friends, it hurts.  Seriously folks, this is not a fricking game I’m playing.  I’m not pretending to be a trans man.  I am a trans man.  If it makes you uncomfortable that I am finally living my life on my terms that’s just too damned bad.  I’m not apologizing.  No one has ever apologized to me for making me feel uncomfortable being mis-gendered my entire life.  No one has ever said, “I am so sorry that I made you feel like an outcast and a misfit because you just were not like the other little girls.”  or “I’m sorry I forced you to live as a girl when you always knew that was wrong.”  or “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about what was wrong.”  No, society will never apologize to us for the degrading and pathologizing and outcasting that they have done to any of us.  They did nothing wrong.  And, well, they didn’t really.  They were just playing their scripts the way they were taught them without thinking it through.  But their thoughtlessness hurt us and it’s still hurting us.  Cis-gender people are so arrogant that they think they can tell me when enough is enough in my transition and actually have the audacity to get angry at me for over stepping what they think is far enough.  Cis-gender people get angry when we impose our need to be seen and treated like who we are instead of what they want to see.  We’re such an imposition on them.  It’s too much work to remember new names and new pronouns.  It’s just too hard!  We ask too much and go too far with all this transition nonsense.  After all, no one’s ever going to take us seriously as our true gender any way.  Why are we wasting our time and making them so uncomfortable?

Why, indeed?

Because it’s time.  It’s time to put an end to the cruelty and abuse of being forced to live and treated like someone we’re not and never have been.  It’s time to end the brainwashing of cis-normative, hetero-normative society on our children and adults.  It’s time to stand up and stake a claim for what is our birthright.  I am beyond sick of other people telling me who and what I am.  Those people don’t know me.  Not really.  They only know what they think they know or want to know.  But they don’t really know who I am or they would never, ever call me she or tell me I’ve gone too far.  I’ve known since I was a child that I wasn’t really a girl but I let them bully me into trying to conform to what they expected of me.  No more!  I have really gotten to a point in my life where other people’s comfort around who I am is not of any concern to me anymore.  I have earned the right to not give a damn.  We all have.  Those people with the audacity to dictate to us what is enough and what is too much have no right to tell me anything is too much.  They have not walked one minute in my shoes and they never will.  Hell, they wouldn’t last a day if they tried.  They think they understand.  They don’t.  They can’t.  There’s no way they can understand that which is outside of their realm of understanding.  But they can leave us alone to live our lives how we see fit and stop judging us and dictating to us and pretending to care until it gets too hard for them.

Rant over.

 

Nobody’s Normal

I used to think no one would really understand me.  Heck, I didn’t even understand me.  I wondered why I couldn’t just be like everyone else and why life couldn’t be simpler.  I wanted to fit in and be “normal”.  The other day I read a post on a forum I belong to from a person who was pretty much saying what I’ve felt for most of my life.  He wanted to know, in a nutshell, if others in the group ever felt like they just wished they were born in the sex they truly were and if others were also tired of always feeling like they didn’t fit in.  Oh boy!  You bet!!  Not only did I read that and nod my head in a knowing “mm hmm, yep” but a lot of other folks jumped in with their own affirmations and explanations for this not so odd commonality in the group.  Some of the comments got me really thinking about why we all want to be seen as “normal”, ordinary, fitting in, so much.  I think I figured it out, at least partly, and I want to share it with you today.

It’s because we’ve all been brainwashed from birth to believe that life works a certain way and that if you deviate from that one true path than YOU are the problem, not the system.  We live in a one size fits all society.  We’re put in pink and blue boxes from the minute we’re born and read fairy tales and watched Disney movies that only have one story line.  Boy meets girl.  Boy loses girl.  Boy gets girl back and they live happily ever after.  Well folks, there is no such thing as “happily ever after”, not all boys want to live happily ever after with a girl and some boys might look more like a girl than a boy.  I’m not saying that people can’t make marriages work for a lifetime.  They can.  There is clear evidence of this.  But, it takes a lot of work and give and take to do it.  And sometimes it sucks the life out of one or both people in order to pull it off.

I grew up watching shows like The Brady Bunch, Eight is Enough, Leave it To Beaver and Father Knows Best.  They all portrayed these perfect families with two loving opposite sex parents and their nearly perfect children.  Even when the kids or the parents did something bad it wasn’t really BAD stuff by today’s standards.  Even in the 1950s that just wasn’t realistic.  It is a nice fantasy, especially for a kid who’s life is far from perfect.  But it’s just further propagating the lies and making people feel like they’re failures when they don’t measure up to Ward Cleaver or Carol Brady.

I saw a meme on Facebook yesterday that asked if we (society) were ready for a lesbian Disney princess.  Heck yeah!  Bring it on!  We need to re-write all of those silly fairy tales out there and put all kinds of relationships and genders in them.  Why not a trans princess?  Or a gay prince?  That would be a start.  I know it will offend some people, but you know, it’s high time they wake up out of their dream land and realize that they’ve been living in the Matrix and sold a bunch of lies.  Life is not as simple as ‘if you have a penis then you’re a boy and if you have a vagina then you’re a girl’ and ‘marriage is only between a man and a woman’.  Nope!  It’s way more complicated than that and it’s time to stop perpetuating the brainwashing and lying about what our children’s futures are going to look like.  Very few of us are going to marry a Prince or kiss a frog and meet the love of our lives and none of us are going to fall into blissful, perfect love with someone and live happily ever after.  That’s all a lie.  And I think it’s destructive.

This destructive brainwashing and programming is what makes us miserable because, when we can’t conform to what society says we should be we think there’s something wrong with us.  The problem isn’t with us.  The problem is with the lies that society perpetuates to keep us all in our nice tight little confined boxes.  If one studies nature at all you can’t help but notice all of the color and variation as well as ‘abnormalities’ that naturally occur.  We celebrate four leaf clovers as being lucky, but really they are an a rare variation of the three leaf clover.  Roses come in a whole array of colors and that’s a wonderful thing.  There’s an animal rescue group in Alabama that house a lion, a tiger and a bear all in the same area because they grew up together from babies and they love each other and get along great.  Tell me that doesn’t go against nature!  People pay money to go see them and think it’s a great thing.  And it is.  But why can’t we allow people, our fellow humans, who are all struggling to just live their lives, find happiness how they wish with whomever they wish without condemning them and spitting in their faces for being ‘different’?  We can.  We just have to wake up and smell the roses and realize that we’ve been lied to our whole lives about what it is to be human.  And, for God’s sake, show some compassion and human decency for each other.  Celebrate the diversity of the human experience in all of it’s colors and glory.  Be you and enjoy your life!