(This entry was posted to Facebook, and to my blog at PINKessence last night. Even online, I am a “girl on the go” ^_^; )
I’m just going to throw these out without too much of a lead-in, set-up, or anything along those lines. If I try to get elaborate, the core meaning’s going to get lost in a sea of words.
About a week ago, my mom and I set out to visit my sister and her husband, in Phoenix, AZ. We spent about two days driving out, and two days driving back. We had about two and a half days to hang out, exchange gifts, go out to eat, and do some things we liked. (My winning $100 at the horse races at the end of the day was icing on the cake, but that’s not important right now.)
What is important is a series of steps where I’m continually priming the pump for “The Talk,” as in, something along the lines of “Mom… Sis… I have something very important to tell you.”, and probably somewhere in there, “Sis, remember back when I was 14 and you had the idea for me to dress up like a girl for Halloween?” ^_^;
There is the question that maybe, they know, or suspect, but haven’t let on, and they’re just waiting for me to tell them.
Obstacle 1: I’m still living with mom, under her roof, and more or less under her rules. She tells me I’ll always have a home with her for as long as I need to, but then, she was the one who busted me 25 years ago or thereabouts. She gave me an open door opportunity, when she asked me if I’d be happier being a girl instead of a boy, but I dropped the ball on that in an spectacular display of epic fail, by trying not to give her any more grief, and simply saying I wanted to be a boy. I now realize that I was only saying that to tell her what I thought she wanted to hear from me.
Obstacle 2: I’m out of work, and have been for six months. I’ve had friends who have been mooching off me. All of my immediate family (Mom, Dad, Sis), and one of my uncles, as well as my stepmother, all are taking interest in seeing that I can get my life back in order, in other words, every time we get together, we eventually fall into the “Let’s Fix (boy-mode)” game. I hate that. I hate having to feel like I can’t have any dreams or goals that seem higher than I can aspire to, because inevitably, they get killed or shot down. My dad and stepmom are very conservative. My sister’s made it out into the real world as a younger age than me. I’m dealing with over 20 years of regrets, because I didn’t have my shit together, and I definitely did not have any kind of guidance, let alone a plan to get from Point A all the way to Point Z. I’m the type of person who can’t seem to see the forest for the trees.
Anyway, too much psycho-babble – Let’s get to what matters:
Scene 1: In the car with Mom, Sis, and my brother-in-law, driving to Wal-Mart after dinner to get some things. Somehow, the conversation turned to earrings, and piercings. (Mom and sis each have two holes in each ear) – I offered up, “Don’t look at me – I don’t have any holes.” – I believe I brought up the fun talk Mom and I had back when I was 15, and mentioned some of the guys I went to school with having at least one ear pierced. (That was the talk that ended with, “(Boy-name), if you get your ears pierced, I’ll pierce your face.”) – It’s different now, I’m an adult, and Mom’s quite aware of that. Earlier this year, I gently brought it up with her (Since some of my co-workers at my most recent job had their ears pierced, either with Altoids-sized studs, or those rather tacky large-gauge piercings you could stick your finger through. — Those seem to gross my sis out. ^_^; )
I received Confirmation #2 from Mom that if I want to get my ears pierced, that’s what I should do. So, sometime within the first couple months of this coming year, I’m getting my ears pierced – Nothing elaborate, just one hole in each lobe. That’s all I really want. It’ll certainly open up my options for earrings. I’ll deal with what I need to do for job interviews, or wherever I end up working. Maybe I’ll luck out again. Whether or not I chose to add in a couple of holes I wasn’t born with does not have any bearing on my self-worth, or my employability. It’s my body, I’m no one else’s property but my own. It’s time I stopped living up to someone else’s expectations of how I could look and act, right?
Scene 2: Sis and I in Wal-Mart, going through the aisles to get what we came in for. (Not really important.) – My sis and I were talking, and our conversation steered toward something that happened to me at my dad’s house a couple of months ago.
… I stopped in to see Dad and stepmom for a while, and my Dad’s on the couch in the family room, watching TV, and my stepmom’s got the ironing board and iron set up in the kitchen area, ironing pleats into some drapes she was altering. I noticed, and started going into shoptalk with her, since we’ve both had experience sewing. Dad mentioned that he thought it was scary how much I knew about sewing. (Hey, I wanted to learn, since I wanted to make my own costumes, and not pay someone else to make them for me. Mom gave me the push I needed to go forward, at least in learning how to use a sewing machine. ^_^; ) – Sis mentioned that I should tell dad I’m just embracing my more feminine side. I remarked that I’d be afraid I’d give him a heart attack…
It was at that moment… I had sort of an epiphany… Sis, and to a degree, Mom, are quite aware that I don’t conform to the “typical male” role models and image and expectations… Maybe, even they didn’t come out and state it directly, they know, and perhaps they are just waiting for me…
I know it’s going to be a hell of a shock to both of them. I think sis may take it better than mom will. Mom may even throw me out of the house, or she may be trying to cling to the hopes that she’ll shame me into continuing to maintain the “disguise” for as long as I can, and especially for XX amount of years in whatever job I end up with.
But I do know this… The door may be open. It has to be open. We will have to sit down and talk. I want to do it when I’m in a better position to be out on my own, and I’m making some sort of progress in life. I don’t want things to backfire. I know they’re probably going to try to talk me out of what I’m trying to do. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know where the road is taking me, but I know I have to go down it. I don’t want to find myself 10, 20 years, or further down the road, regretting not finding out who I am, and trying to explore what I was shamed away from 25 years ago.
Stay tuned, space travellers…