Ego sum. ego existo

My very first post, was around the purpose of why I started this whole blog in the first place. I had set out to create a guidebook for trans professionals. Which I would hope is evident from the name of the blog.

What I didn’t know at the time, was how difficult it was going to be to get the life experience necessary to begin to write that guidebook.

Transitioning is hard. It takes all of your courage, and it takes all of your strength. I know I spent my entire life dreaming of a day like today, where I’m sitting at my desk, in my own office, with some time to think on my hands, and a little bit of reflection in my heart. Whether I particularly dreamed of the office is irrelevent, what I’m intending is that I had some comfort and space to just exist.

That’s ultimately what it comes down to, ego sum, ego existo. I am, I exist. The original writing of Descartes, I think therefore I am. I think the original speaks more broadly to my truth. Because I thought long before I was.

Let me explain that better. I spent most of my life in the shadow of myself, trying desperately to unwind myself from the shell that surrounded me. To confuse matters more, we’re more then just ourselves in the single context of our mind. Though the mind is the source of our reason, and thus our self. It is within a social world, a physical interactive world that the self is actualized and realized.

So my own thinking mind was never enough, could never be enough to realize my entire person. It is only within the context of it’s expression truthfully could I begin to know myself and just be.

It’s difficult to explain but the last year has been the process of introducing myself to me and learning to express myself to others, for the first time, openly and honestly. Learning how to understand my emotions, feeling them with the richness and endless possibility that exists, not just repressing and suffering under their load.

Now I feel like I am, and therefore I exist.

 

 

 

Gifts

Walking about, without purpose or doubt

Trepidation and angst, wanting to shout

Fraud, Fraud, Fraud is all that you are

Your gifts are empty, your presence we bar.

 

But the barring won’t come, there’s none who suspect.

That there’s nothing of hope or of joy i inject.

Merely I take, and I squander and ruin.

The opportunities others, would give their whole due in.

 

I can’t give all I should, and try to repent.

but next darken a door, with kindness unspent

 

 

Alone in a Crowd

Upon a long and rocky shore

I looked out screamed ‘at last no more’
A frail and broken cry that grew

Into the sea which never knew

The pain that welled within my heart

Cold and strange, through unknown part

 

The sea so blue, so fresh and true

Couldn’t listen to the words I threw

 

Gentle roaring, surf sublime

My voice catching, salted brine

Ne’er to reach another ear

Though I’m shouting very near
Sea so blue, so brown, so green,

Windows but no truth to glean

Washing forward like a tide

But my truth it won’t abide

 

Though I long to join the sea

My belonging there shall never be.

 

For more of my poems click here.

 

 

 

Feeling Tired

I had a conversation the other day that has really stuck with me. I’ve not been subtle in my desire to connect with other queer professionals in my industry. I had a chance to sit down with one last week.

To say that the conversation was helpful would be a profound understatement. Unfortunately, I’ve been somewhat downtrodden to learn that the frustrations and negative feelings I’ve been having lately are shared.

Some people say misery loves company, I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I certainly wasn’t happy to hear I had company.

One of the things that really has affected me, is that I don’t often feel respected or heard. In a lot of what I do, professionally and personally. I have tried to put myself out there by volunteering and I often find myself even in queer spaces relegated to the corner whenever my opinion differs from anyone else’s.

I’m not a real enough woman to be heard as one, I ‘gave up’ being a man so I’m not worth respecting like one.

I’m lately feeling so very lonely and voiceless. It’s incredibly frustrating. I find my gender identity and ‘differences’ are used as an example as to why I’m not worth listening to, or aren’t part of some team, or aren’t worth listening to long enough to make a point.

I find myself often spoken over and ignored.

The part of my conversation last week that bothered me the most? Thirty years into her career and she’s still struggling with the same thing. With better poise and grace no doubt, but still struggling to be heard and listened to at times.

I’m already so tired, I don’t know if I have that much fight left in me.

 

 

On Feeling Good

I had a conversation with someone recently, and I mentioned the volunteering and community work that I do, she responded with something¬† I wasn’t really expecting.

“That must make you feel good.”

I didn’t know how to respond so I said no, because it doesn’t. I can’t really think of anything I’ve done that made me feel good. Which got me thinking, what doesn’t feeling good even mean?

I can think of a handful of times in my life that I felt joy, happiness, anything like that. Getting married, I felt happy, not as happy as I wanted to. At the time I wasn’t really great at feeling things. I felt somewhat proud when I graduated from college. I felt happy to the point of tears when I held my new birth certificate, and the first time I looked in the mirror and saw a woman.

So in almost thirty years of life, those are the memories I have of feeling good, of feeling happy, of feeling joy. That probably sounds bad, but I’m not generally miserable. I just don’t feel good a lot.

Which raises a couple of questions for me, do people go through life feeling good and bad, and hunting for that good feeling? Is that the motivation for people, to create instances where things just feel good? Maybe I’m somewhat broken from the fact that things have generally not been good. Chasing those highs seems somewhat unreliable.

This also raises the question to me, do people only volunteer, do they give back because they want to chase that good feeling? Does helping someone else make you feel good?

Is it really altruistic if you’re doing it because of how you’ll feel. I don’t volunteer out of altruism, my purpose is rather selfish. I work with certain groups with causes that benefit people like me, including me. I spend my time supporting a community that supports me, I don’t think that’s altruism. That’s fairly self-concerned.

I don’t have a lot of answers here, I’m just working through some questions.

I think there needs to be more of a reason to do things then how you’ll feel about them, you need to think that they are good. That they matter, that they’re helpful or important to someone else. Relying on your feelings on the matter is irrelevant. I think this is where the ‘white saviour’ trope comes from. If all I’m concerned about is my feelings toward something then the most good I can create is for myself.

I’m going to keep thinking on this one because it’s stuck with me and is bothering me. What is feeling good, what does it feel like? What does happiness feel like. My goal has often been contentment. I have a friend who has a saying, there are bad times and worse times. I’ve always liked it.